Silent Shattering
by Cascadia
Summary: Obi-Wan is totally devastated after a horrific attack. When will he tell Qui-Gon of the assault? REPOST [complete]
1. Mourning Into Night

This repost is due to the interest of some readers who have contacted me recently about not be able to find this or its sequel _Remnants in the Mind._ Intending they would never again see the light of day, I pulled both stories last year for personal reasons: I had grown increasingly uncomfortable with the subject matter--a subject not to be lightly dealt with--and I would prefer to never again write about. But I suppose a story is meant to be read, and I'm not at all putting them up again for reviews. Read them if you want--or if you don't want to read them, don't. :) Both stories are up. No changes have been made; they are the same stories they were when posted in mid 2002.

* * *

TITLE: SILENT SHATTERING

AUTHOR: Cascadia

TIME: 7 years pre-TPM, Obi-Wan is 18

RATING: R (Subject matter)

CATEGORY: Drama/Angst

SUMMARY: Obi-Wan is totally devastated after a horrific attack. When will he tell Qui-Gon of the assault?

ARCHIVE: Please ask first.

DISCLAIMER: All recognizable characters are the property of Lucasfilm Limited. All the rest belong to me. I receive absolutely no profit from this.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: This is NOT a slash story. Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon are both heterosexual and will remain that way throughout the entire story. Dreams are italicized.

WARNING: THIS STORY DEALS WITH ATTEMPTED RAPE/SEXUAL ASSAULT. IF THIS SUBJECT BOTHERS YOU, THEN PLEASE DO NOT READ THIS.

I feel hesitant to post this because of the gravity of such a situation. But, I've tried to handle it in a respectful manner. So, please be nice.

* * *

CHAPTER 1 - MOURNING INTO NIGHT

A sable mantle of night slipped over the five colossal Jedi Temple spires stretching far into the atmosphere of Coruscant, bringing the entire Temple to a standstill for a brief pause - a nod to the gloom and doom that penetrates the course of life. It was not a night of joy, of peace, of celebration, or of anything that brightens the heart. Rather, it was a night of mourning and sadness, and of all the emotions that plague the soul - death's sobering knock demanding an entrance, never coy enough to wait. Claiming the last trailing vestiges of daylight, nocturne swept every corner that fought to retain the last evidence of the sun - and the brightness of day vanished.

In one particular place of the Temple, on this particular night, there was a grand assembly. All the esteemed Jedi masters and councilors and senior padawan's, and all those who had any respect for greatness gathered for one purpose - to pay final respect to a man in the style of a Jedi obsequy.

Crackling softly, flames flickered from the funeral pyre. All else fell silent - perhaps fearful of raising voice or mournful cry. As a mysterious haze settled over the ceremony of Dajer Quaykin, all those present silently came to terms with the man's passing.

He was not a Jedi. He had never been. But as well respected and loved as he was by them - especially Qui-Gon Jinn - it seemed very appropriate to honor the man with a Jedi funeral.

Eerie orange light glimmered across the face of Obi-Wan Kenobi - his hood-framed face strangely bright despite the fall of night. He could sense the darkling tendrils of death snaking through the crowd, hissing its vile threats. Yet, it was the sight before him that left him dazed.

He pulled his eyes from the leaping flames, to glance over the faces of those present, pausing over each one there - noting the solemn visages. Stopping on one particular - and one very familiar - face, the young Jedi apprentice felt his heart wrench. The man's midnight blue eyes, usually intense, now appeared hollow - darker than normal. His facial features were drawn and weary. The depth of the despair present there overpowered any impulse to destroy the image of the one that those feelings were reserved for.

But how could so many be so... wrong? A sudden nausea washed over the young man as he tore his eyes away, unable to comprehend this madness that had consumed his world. Perhaps he had entered his own hell, to suffer for what evils he had done. Even his pure heart must have some corruption hidden deep within. And now he would pay...

* * *

Offering a breathtaking view of the immense Coruscant cityscape, the transparisteel windows gleamed with the intense light of the morning sun - crisp and clear. Sunbeams broke through the windows, spilling across the floor in a quiet hush - sending shadows retreating, intimidated by the sparkling display.

Strolling along one of the Temple's observation decks, a master and an apprentice studied the waking world outside. Small transports, large freighters, transits, and hot rod speeders - among other vehicles - flew by silently, passively, catching and reflecting sunrays - flashing glistening, shining metals and alloys. A new day sprang to life outside.

The two figures walked side by side. Their matching brown robes swayed gently with their gait, briefly revealing khaki, tan, and brown colored clothes beneath. Tall, with long brown hair graying at the roots, a beard, and intense, deep blue eyes set in a face of leonine features, Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn's appearance was that of an ancient warrior poised to easily overpower any foe. His young apprentice, eighteen-year-old Obi-Wan Kenobi, was average in height and build - and therefore dwarfed by his towering master. But the young man was not dwarfed in spirit - for Obi-Wan possessed a spirit of grace and quiet reflection, and his keen sense of purity of mind and sensitive heart drove his selfless actions. His aquamarine eyes were caressed by a handsome face - topped off with short, ginger hair and a long padawan braid snaking from behind his right ear.

Beckoned by the outside view, Qui-Gon steered toward the windows. He leaned upon the handrail there, staring out at the city the Jedi call home. Following his lead, his apprentice approached the windows. They stood there in silence, the dazzling light capturing them both.

"Obi-Wan?" the tall Jedi's voice strained, his eyes never leaving the view.

Turning to his master, Obi-Wan quietly said, "yes, Master?" He was not sure what Qui-Gon was about to bring up, but he had a good idea.

"Obi-Wan, how was Dajer... just before he," Qui-Gon paused, nearly unable to say the word, "before he fell," he quickly finished, stumbling over the last word.

Looking back out the windows, Obi-Wan tightened his mental shields, barricading them against any imposition his master might make. The young man's eyes turned dark. Closing them, he attempted to hide any clue as to what boiled beneath his exterior. If only it had not happened. If only it had been someone else besides himself. If only he did not have to keep his master from knowing what really happened. Then... then he would not hurt so deeply inside.

"Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon faced his padawan, staring at him - the young man's comely features illuminated unstained purity by the sunlight.

Glancing at his master, Obi-Wan saw the deep pain imbedded there in his eyes, knowing that he had contributed to - caused - that. "Master, please," came his voice, desolate.

"Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon's voice was more intent, yet serene. "You haven't said much about what happened." He turned back to the window, sighing. "Please. Tell me," he quietly pleaded.

Swallowing with difficulty, Obi-Wan started softly, "Master, Mister Quaykin..." he could not say it.

"Fell. I know," Qui-Gon interrupted. "You've already told me that. But tell me what else happened. He was my friend, Obi-Wan. I want you to tell me," he finished, almost begging.

Obi-Wan was sure his master suspected nothing. But why did he have to be so insistent? Running a trembling hand through his hair, the padawan reached to the Force for calm. It came with difficulty, feeling filtered and hollow.

"Master," he started again. "I was bringing Mister Quaykin from the spaceport's lobby. He followed me all the way to the speeder garage where the speeder was parked."

As he continued, his mind wandered, and he found himself adrift - his consciousness blanking out on him, leaving him like a programmed droid making a report. Where was his mind? Why did he blank out this way? It was not that he was unaware of what had happened, rather he remembered it all too clearly. And he told nothing new each time that Qui-Gon asked him about it. Nevertheless, his master pleaded with him to recount it over and over again - as if it were something new. But he could never break his master's heart by telling him that his precious friend tried to...

But what if he did tell and no one even believed him? What if Master Qui-Gon dismissed it as... exaggeration? lying? Why should anyone believe him? Why should Qui-Gon believe him? Dajer Quaykin was a great man... in their eyes.

It was not that the young Jedi could not have saved Quaykin. The man was dangling off the side of a railing with Obi-Wan standing over him. If he had been just a little faster, just a little more focused - rather than lost in the confusion that Quaykin's attack on him had caused - then Quaykin would be alive today. He felt responsible for that one death - that one death that brought such pain to his master. If there was anyway he could have traded his life for Quaykin's - to restore Qui-Gon's joy, to escape his own guilt - he would have done so without hesitation.

But what puzzled the padawan most of all was why this man was so esteemed by the Jedi. Obi-Wan had heard of the great deeds that Quaykin had supposedly done - and Qui-Gon backed it all up. But, how could this be the same man? The evil man that held a knife to Obi-Wan's throat could not possibly be the one that all the Jedi masters revered. But an autopsy confirmed beyond any doubt that it was.

Thinking back to that day, Obi-Wan remembered vividly how the man pulled the knife on him, pushing him down on the duracrete in the speeder garage. And then held him down with the knife to his throat. Taken completely by surprise, the young Jedi was quickly overpowered, unable to put up a defense until too late. Under the man's power, his mind was set adrift - clouded and numbed. Sometime after the man started talking to him and touching him, he regained his senses and managed to grab the man's hand that held the knife and send it clattering across the ground. Then there was a brief struggle, during which Quaykin lost his balance - because of a Force-push - and slipped over the edge of the speeder garage's railing. However, he was able to grab the railing and hold on for a moment before plummeting far below to lower levels.

"He was such a good friend," Qui-Gon said distantly, after Obi-Wan finished - not - telling Qui-Gon everything. How it broke the young man's heart every time his master said something like that.

Initially, Obi-Wan told the authorities that Quaykin fell, and no more. His mind was in such a state of shock, that he could tell no more. And the authorities asked no more. No one suspected anything out of the ordinary. Then when he arrived back at the Temple, he was questioned and questioned until he was so exhausted that Qui-Gon sent him to bed. And still no one knew.

It seemed that the events were immediately locked up deep inside him - he was unable to talk about them or even to open up his shields so that another could look within to see what had really happened. As the days passed it became increasingly difficult to bring up the subject. He felt that he would never be able to release his feelings or thoughts about that nightmare. It would forever remain buried deep within.

Unsure of how much longer he could bear this burden, Obi-Wan tried to not think of anything - but to empty his mind completely and make it through each day as it came. As difficult as each new day was, the padawan managed to make it... somehow. But he could not help but feel like he was becoming less himself each day, torn and weathered inside, where his heart was... silently shattering - mutely screaming for rescue.

A large hand fell on his shoulder abruptly, breaking him out of his pondering. He turned his eyes to the man beside him. Qui-Gon stared intently at him.

"Obi-Wan," his voice was gentle. "I need to speak with Dajer's family concerning his death. I want you to accompany me to his home planet."

Obi-Wan's breath caught in his throat. No, he did not want to go there. He did not want to ever have anything to do with THAT man ever again. Realizing that his hands were clutching the window railing tightly, he dropped his eyes to the floor, grappling for the Force to calm his unsteady nerves.

Qui-Gon was left facing the sun-kissed, golden silk of his padawan's hair, with the young man's face hidden from sight. Sensing his padawan's uneasiness, he reached down, tipping Obi-wan's chin up with his hand, lifting the young man's face into view. Now, Qui-Gon could see his face - but his gaze remained downcast. "Obi-Wan," the Jedi master whispered. "What is bothering you?"

"Nothing, Master," Obi-Wan answered quietly, closing his eyes completely. He checked and rechecked his shields, but they were bolstered beyond appeal. But, he knew that even if he tried to open them, throwing open every floodgate to let every secret out, there would still be that one thing lying there, rooted deep within, smoldering, growing, until it consumed that innocent soul that was chosen as its host - its victim. That one thing he himself could not release - could not show to anyone - was a weed slowly sucking out the life of a precious, beloved flower.

Reaching out to touch Obi-Wan's mind, Qui-Gon bumped unexpectedly into the young man's barricaded shields, unable to enter his mind. "Is it Dajer's death, Obi-Wan?" he questioned, unsure. Perhaps, Obi-Wan was still upset about Dajer's death, Qui-Gon reasoned. The young man knew his master loved Dajer as a brother and felt bad for him, and Obi-Wan was with the man when he died.

"Yes, Master," the padawan lied. Opening his eyes, he forced air into his lungs, to quell his lightheadedness.

"We all still hurt from it, Obi-Wan. But time will heal our wounds." Letting go of his padawan's chin, Qui-Gon turned away from the windows. "We will leave tomorrow, Obi-Wan," he said, starting down the corridor, assuming his padawan would follow. "Jaross is not far from here. So, it won't take long to get there. We'll take a commercial liner, since this is not official business."

Numbly, Obi-Wan trudged after his master - his mind nervously spun adrift, searching for... something... to save it from itself.

* * *

_"He fell?"_

_"Y-Yes, sir."_

_"Where were you when this happened?_

_"At the speeder garage, bay 16, n-near the Western spaceport."_

_"Alright. We'll file a report. Do you need a ride back to the Jedi Temple?"_

_"No, sir. I have a speeder."_

_"Know you, how Dajer Quaykin fell? Hmmm?"_

_"He... he lost his balance as he was leaning over a railing and... he fell."_

_"I can't believe Dajer's dead. He was such a good friend."_

_"I'm sorry... Master. I... I'm sorry."_

_"I can't believe he's... dead."_

Turning onto his back, the padawan opened his eyes, seeing the room was dark. It was still night. He took several deep breaths to slow his racing heartbeat. The nightmares came every night, not always the same, but they were always there - intruding, demanding entrance. The nature of the dreams changed, too. Sometimes they entailed the aftermath of the ordeal - answering questions, seeing Qui-Gon's saddened face - or sometimes they were terrorizing relivings of Quaykin's assault - all too real, too personal. He would feel the man's hands all over him - touching, abusing, threatening - and hear the ripping of his tunic.

Closing his eyes again, Obi-Wan reached to the Force for comfort. He rolled onto his side, curling into a fetal position, grappling for any sense of security.

* * *

Knocking on the bedroom door, the tall Jedi master waited patiently for any sign of his padawan moving about. He pressed his ear against the door. There was no sound, so he reached out with the Force to touch the young man's mind, finding it blissfully adrift in slumber. Looking at his wrist-chrono, he wondered just how late his padawan would sleep. It was past time for their morning workout. Surely the young man was not going to sleep all day. Qui-Gon had waited in the training rooms nearly an hour for Obi-Wan to show up. When he decided he would go to his padawan's quarters and see what was keeping him, he did not expect to find his padawan still in bed.

With determination, Qui-Gon opened the bedroom door and marched to the side of the sleep couch. Obi-Wan was curled up on his side, sheets twisted possessively around him, with his face nearly concealed from view - his short, spiky hair tousled and strikingly soft and silky against the pillow.

"Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon gently said. He did not want to rudely awaken the young man, but it WAS late. "Obi-Wan," he called again - slightly louder.

Stirring faintly, Obi-Wan mumbled something imperceptible. His face turned towards Qui-Gon, his eyes remaining closed - dark eyelashes soft and feathery upon his cheeks.

Gripping the young man's blanket, Qui-Gon gently tugged it down to Obi-Wan's waist. With that, the young Jedi mumbled something else while creasing his forehead. Qui-Gon, then, gently shook his padawan's shoulder several times, until the young man turned his back towards him. Now the master was beyond gentility. Qui-Gon rested his hands on his hips, planning his next attack against the sleeping padawan.

With a new revelation, he crouched down at the side of the sleep couch. Taking hold of the crisp sheet that covered the couch's mattress, the Jedi master loosened it all around. Next, he gripped generous amounts of the sheet firmly in each hand, and took a slow, deep breath, preparing himself. Then, he quickly yanked the sheet back as sharply as he could, managing to pull the sheet, the blankets, the pillow, and the padawan all off on the floor - landing in a dull thud... and a moan. Finally emerging from a horizontal position, Obi-Wan sat up weakly - his eyelashes fluttering.

"Didn't you sleep well last night, Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon beamed cheerily, feigning innocence.

Glancing up into his master's bright eyes, Obi-Wan quickly looked away. "No, Master. I didn't," he admitted, annoyed by his master's not very subtle way of waking him. Quickly, he reached out to the Force to release his un-Jedi-like emotions before he regretted what he might say.

"You're late for practice," Qui-Gon said, a slight amount of scolding coming through in his tone.

He watched as the young Jedi freed himself from the knots of blankets and sheet. Very deliberate in his actions, Obi-Wan finally stood up and met his master's gaze. "I know," his voice was heavy in irritation. He looked away again, silently berating himself for his rebellious attitude toward Qui-Gon.

Sensing the inner battle, the tall Jedi backed off of his deprecation, allowing Obi-Wan to cool down. "Get ready to leave for Jaross. We'll leave as soon as you're ready," Qui-Gon informed his padawan. Then, he turned and silently left the room.

Catching himself rolling his eyes after the departed master, Obi-Wan reached again to the calming, tranquil waves of the Force. He needed to lose himself in it right now - before he went off on that very tall, very calm Jedi in the other room. He knew that even if he did break into a tirade, Qui-Gon would simply stand there patiently, until he had exhausted himself, then would tell the padawan why he was wrong - all the while keeping a serene demeanor.

Entering the 'fresher, Obi-Wan locked the door behind him. There he fell to his knees in the middle of the room. As he sank into meditation a silent tear slid down his cheek.

* * *

The 'Starstreamer' left no room for those without reservations. That is... unless you were a Jedi master with connections to rival a Hutt. And Qui-Gon Jinn had one such connection in a very good friend of his who just happened to own the spacious luxury liner. Outside, the ship exhibited sleek design and cutting-edge mechanics. Its main hull glistened a pale, metallic blue with light lavender glimmering accessory panels. On the inside, the passenger liner flaunted wealth and a taste for over-extravagance. But its ostentatious style never fell to gaudiness or vulgarity. On the contrary, it spoke of fine, cultured elegance - a trait that made it very highly regarded within the circles of the rich.

Qui-Gon and his padawan, Obi-Wan, followed a valet droid, who had insisted on carrying their rather light luggage to their guest suite. The rolling droid pulled a long cart behind it, having more than enough room for the two Jedi's small travel bags - a frivolous gesture of the etiquette of the wealthy, but, nevertheless, genuinely polite.

After the droid left the suite, Obi-Wan looked the place over, enamored by its beauty. The main room displayed finely-crafted furnishings - regal purple upholstered chairs, richly-carved tables, floral-splashed lamps, all dripping with golden accents. Two side rooms splurged with large, canopied beds - sheer, light, lavender trimming streamed down each bedpost. And an azure-marble adorned 'fresher rounded out the suite.

"Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon's voice carried from one of the bedrooms.

The padawan left the main room, entering the bedroom claimed by his master. "Yes, Master?" he answered, seeing Qui-Gon pulling down the bed's lavender silky covering.

"I'm going to take a short nap," Qui-Gon informed him. "You may do as you wish."

"Yes, Master," Obi-Wan replied.

"I'm glad you're with me on this trip, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said as he turned to him, resting his large hand on his padawan's shoulder. The tall man stared into Obi-Wan's attentive eyes, his sincerity evident. "I... need you to help me. This will not be easy. Dajer's family has been informed of his death, but they need to be told the details in person."

Obi-Wan's gaze fell to the floor. No, he did not want to have to tell about it again. Master Qui-Gon would not make him, would he? He silently pleaded to the Force to prevent that from happening.

Qui-Gon ducked his head slightly, trying to keep his padawan's eyes focused on himself. "Obi-Wan?" he prodded.

The young man's eyes lifted to meet his master's again. Only now, pain clearly shone in their luminous depths. There appeared to be no way to escape this life of torment. His weary heart still ached from the never-ending misery of that one, dreadful night only days before. And every day brought a fresh struggle to escape the stinging tentacles of doom wrought from Hell's pit.

"Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon's voice grew compassionate. "I know that you are tired of talking about it, but..." he paused, seeing Obi-Wan's eyes tear up. "Dajer's family deserves to hear what happened just before he died. Please... do this for me... one last time," he asked. He had seen the weariness in his padawan of having to repeat the story again and again. And he knew - belatedly - that he had pushed the padawan to that.

Nodding his head, the padawan quietly answered, "yes, Master." He would do what his master wanted - whatever he asked of him, no matter what it may be, no matter how painful. Obi-Wan would honor Qui-Gon's request to the best of his ability - even if he were destroyed inside. The vile darkness rooted deep within cruelly - and clearly - sought to suffocate the pure heart that housed it, and there seemed no way to prevent that. So, he would walk through the torment to his death, if need be.

Qui-Gon gently squeezed the young man's shoulder before releasing it and turning back to the bed.

Wandering back to the main room, Obi-Wan left his master to rest. He sat heavily on a plush sofa there - his mind trapped in that one moment, mercilessly held captive. "It never happened," he whispered to himself.

It was easier to deny what happened than to face it. To pretend that the whole, dreadful episode was only a nightmare, and that the things he was going through now were only his imagination seemed the only way that he could sanely cope with it.

"It never happened," he repeated over and over until he found himself lying across the sofa. Then, he finally drifted off to sleep.

* * *


	2. Dreams Or Reality

TITLE: SILENT SHATTERING

AUTHOR: Cascadia

* * *

CHAPTER 2 - DREAMS OR REALITY

Music streamed gently, wafting through the air, filling the atmosphere with its sweet, tender melody - providing a tranquilizing backdrop for the dining hall's guests. Spacious - but filled to capacity - the 'Starstreamer's' elegant dining room flourished with the wealthy in their best attire. There, the rich paraded by, flashing, flaunting sparkling gems, the most opulent silks and satins - in the richest colors - majestic, pompous, and pretentious in every action to promote themselves - or their wealth. The graceful marble columns periodically spaced throughout the hall held up a stone, sculptured ceiling.

There, in the midst of that vain display of affluence, sat two men in the plainest brown-colored, simple robes ever present in that glorious hall. Unornamented, unadorned, and homely, they provided a source for gawking by those too blind to know the difference between success and riches.

"Master," Obi-Wan began. "How long will this trip be? I feel," he paused, glancing around, "out of place here."

Nodding his understanding, Qui-Gon smiled, "Obi-Wan, this is an upscale passenger liner - the best in the Core Worlds. I have travelled on this ship before, usually on solo missions, because I didn't want to drag a young boy through this. But, I think you're old enough to handle it now, padawan. And besides, it was the quickest departure I could arrange," he explained.

"Thank you, Master." Obi-Wan replied. "But, do they have to stare?" his eyebrows raised in question.

"They don't have to... but they will," Qui-Gon's eyes sparkled.

Shyly smiling at the sly comment, Obi-Wan's gaze flitted to the table before him. Feeling out of place only strengthened the padawan's misery. The entire atmosphere here loomed like a terrible dream. His experience one week ago had sent him spiralling into a descending state of diffidence where his confidence was shrinking. And the staring - as well as every other exaggerated luxury - did little to soothe his distress.

Staring at his padawan, Qui-Gon watched as the young man nervously adjusted his robe. Obi-Wan was not like himself, the Jedi master conceded. He had not been since Dajer's death. True, that type of circumstance changes people, but the padawan had just met the man. And, while those that grieve learn to cope with time, Obi-Wan seemed to be getting worse - his digression too imperceptible for Qui-Gon to have noticed before through his own mourning. But, it had been a week, and the Jedi master had moved beyond his grieving.

Why did he not see this before? Was he so blind as to not notice the desolation that now coiled itself around his padawan's heart - squeezing so subtly, so imperceptibly, slowly choking the life from him. How could he have let this happen? This was his padawan. His responsibility. And, until Obi-Wan moved beyond that position of being his responsibility, then the young man was his to look after and guide to become a knight. And, Qui-Gon reasoned, anything that came in the way, was his responsibility to fight and defeat - not Obi-Wan's.

Was it only the man's death that struck so deeply at his padawan's heart, or was there something more? Obi-Wan had faced the dead before, seen things most young men his age would never see in their entire lifetime, so why would this one man's death bring such a heaviness. The padawan knew his master cared for Dajer, but there appeared to be something deeper, more firmly rooted, that Obi-Wan could not dispose.

What terrible secret lay veiled by those radiant aquamarine eyes?

"Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon said, uncertainly.

"Yes, Master?" the young man's eyes rose, almost meeting his master's - but not quite.

"Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon started again.

The young man bit his lower lip, his gaze frozen on Qui-Gon's beard. Pain - or something else disturbing - danced behind his eyes. "What is it, Master?" Obi-Wan asked, frowning.

"How... how are you, padawan?" he managed to say.

Obi-Wan's eyes fell back to the table. "I'm fine, Master," he said quietly, nervously playing with his robe again.

Frowning, Qui-Gon swept his gaze away from his padawan. The young man did not look well, but he would not tell Qui-Gon what was wrong. That was Obi-Wan. He would hide any problem he had from his master, never tell him, if he could get away with it.

The Jedi master had pondered over why it was that Obi-Wan kept these problems locked away - not wanting to show weakness. It was not wanting to appear better than the other initiates or padawans, nor was it overconfidence. His sense of his own unworthiness proved that, carrying it to an extreme. Perhaps, it was fear. That deeply rooted fear that threatened to send Obi-Wan away to the Agri-Corps. That fear that turned to anger as he sparred with the other initiates. That fear of never being good enough, never being accepted as a padawan, never becoming a Jedi Knight.

And, that insecurity was only strengthened by Qui-Gon's initial rejection of him. How the Jedi master wished he could go back and change that - to salvage his padawan's security, assure him that he would never be sent away. But, that could never be. He could not change the past, but only live in the now and prepare Obi-Wan, as best as he could, for a future.

And now, Obi-Wan was NOT fine. Of that, Qui-Gon was sure. But... how could he get the young man to open up and tell him what the problem was? How in the galaxy would he ever find out?

"Qui-Gon," came a booming, cheerful voice behind him. "Qui-Gon, it's so good to see you."

Turning toward the voice, Qui-Gon smiled, "Flane Rasicher."

Obi-Wan watched the broad-shouldered man stop beside his master. The two men heartily shook hands.

"Won't you sit down?" Qui-Gon asked politely, as he stood.

The man looked to be considering Qui-Gon's offer. "Oh... if you really want me to. I can't stay long, but there is something I need to discuss with you... sometime."

"No. Please sit down," the Jedi master insisted, sitting back down and gesturing to an empty chair.

Flane sat his broad form in a chair facing Qui-Gon. The man stood tall - though not achieving Qui-Gon's height - broad of shoulder, with a trim waist, balding scalp of black hair, and dignified facial features. He looked at Obi-Wan, who was watching him curiously.

"Don't let this man confuse you," Flane confided to the padawan. "Qui-Gon is NOT the best swordsman in the Order. He just thinks he is," he winked, dragging a half smile from Obi-Wan. "So," he turned back to Qui-Gon, "how did you get on this ship, Qui-Gon? I thought they sprayed for pests," he chuckled.

Smiling, Qui-Gon said, "Flane Rasicher, I want to meet my apprentice, Obi-Wan Kenobi." The Jedi master glanced at his padawan. The young man still looked a little distant, but not as much as he did before Flane sat down.

"Obi-Wan Kenobi," Flane paused, his eyes peering up, as if in thought. "You aren't the Obi-Wan Kenobi that breaks all the girls' hearts on Coruscant, are you?" he asked with a twinkle in his eye.

Blushing, Obi-Wan's gaze fell to the table.

"No?" Flane laughed, turning back to Qui-Gon. "You really ought to let this boy get out, Qui-Gon. He's liable to live his whole life in seclusion."

"Flane is an old friend of mine, Obi-Wan," the Jedi master informed his padawan.

"I may be a friend, but I'm not old," Flane smiled. "Not as old as you are, anyway, Qui-Gon," he added, mischievously.

"He used to help me get inside information from criminal investigations that the Republic handled on various planets," Qui-Gon explained.

"I USED to help you, huh?" Flane said, craftily.

"Yes," Qui-Gon answered. "What happened? Did they relegate you to cleaning the 'freshers again?" he quipped.

"Oh, no. I'm still doing the same thing. I just don't find out anything useful anymore," Flane explained. "Which reminds me. Did you hear about Dajer Quaykin?" he turned serious.

Qui-Gon glanced at Obi-Wan, who was starting to look lost again. "Yes, Flane," he answered. "That's why we're on this ship. To talk to his family."

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about," Flane said. "Dajer sent me a message two weeks ago that stated he had some important information he needed to tell me. But, I never got a chance to talk to him before he died," he explained, resting his elbows on the table. "I was wondering if he'd said anything to you, Qui-Gon."

"No, I haven't..." the Jedi master paused to correct his mistake, "didn't talk to Dajer after last month."

Obi-Wan watched silently as his master tried to conceal the pain of Quaykin's death. The padawan knew it was all his fault, and the weight of darkness that had settled upon him seemed to grow heavier. Fighting to keep tears from forming, the padawan looked away from the table to reign in his swelling emotions.

"Well, I won't bother you any further," Flane said as he rose to his feet. "Perhaps we can talk more at some later time," he glanced at Obi-Wan before looking back to Qui-Gon. "Goodbye," the man added before walking away.

Qui-Gon turned his attention back to his padawan, who was very quiet. Obi-Wan's gaze hovered on the table top. "Obi-Wan?" he said, worriedly.

"Yes, Master?" the padawan said, with reservation.

"What... what are you going to have to eat?" Qui-Gon asked, choosing to broach the subject later.

* * *

Qui-Gon had found practically no time to talk with Obi-Wan alone in privacy the rest of the trip aboard the 'Starstreamer' - thanks in part to the many acquaintances of his that insisted on taking up his time. Even the passenger liner's owner - Erit Gashlet - served to be more than a host by giving the two Jedi a personal tour of the ship's public and private features. And, the times when the Jedi master arrived back at their guest suite - into late hours - he always discovered his padawan asleep.

Now at Jaross, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan left the generous comfort behind, riding a public transit to the home of Dajer Quaykin. The large, compact house rose five stories with dark grey walls of chiseled stone, and steep steps lead to a set of ornate double doors.

"Master Jinn," said the short, plump woman who answered the door. "Please come in," she stepped back to allow the two Jedi access. "I'll tell Mrs. Quaykin that you're here," she added, turning to leave the entry foyer where they stood.

Obi-Wan stole a sidelong peek at his master. The mounting anxiety inside of him was rising exponentially. Trying to curb it with the Force, he found that it was too far gone for him to bring it under any control - not without entering a deep meditative state. But, then Qui-Gon would be left wondering what the problem was. And that was something he desperately did not want.

He wanted nothing more than to turn and run away from this place, from this task that his master had asked of him. Far away he would be safe - he told himself. There would be no pressure, no reminders of THAT man - that terrible man who had tried to use him for some base, self-indulgent, sadistic pleasure. But, his selfless loyalty to Master Qui-Gon kept him from doing that. The last thing he wanted to do was to let his master down. He could not bear Qui-Gon's disappointment in him - no matter the torment he was forced to walk through to prevent it.

Both of them stood uncomfortably in silence - Qui-Gon clearing his throat nervously several times, completely oblivious to his padawan's internal struggles.

Suddenly there fell a curtain of vile darkness around the padawan - choking his slight grasp of the Force. And - if he didn't know better - the whole room fell into a state of smothering dimness, only... no one else seemed to notice. His weak attempts to break that stranglehold and strengthen his Force-sense waned, and the once comforting spark of life that kept him from drowning in that decadent pool of torment was suddenly snuffed out - pitting him at the mercy of the icy fingers of fate. He gasped involuntarily from the unexpected loss of Force-control.

"Qui-Gon," came a warm, inviting voice - covering Obi-Wan's gasp from his master's notice. The woman gracefully pranced up to the Jedi master, a generous smile crossing her lips. "It's so good to see you again," she said on her tiptoes, reaching up to hug him.

The woman appeared about fifty standard years old, with black hair pulled back into a complex pattern of braids near the back of her head. Tall and slender, she was nearly as big as Obi-Wan.

"Serenity," Qui-Gon said, returning the affection. "This is my apprentice, Obi-Wan Kenobi," he said, as the woman released her hold on him. "Obi-Wan, this is Dajer's wife, Serenity." Glancing at his padawan as he introduced him, Qui-Gon was struck by how sickly pale the young man now appeared.

"Obi-Wan," the woman repeated as she hugged the pallid young man.

As she let go of him, Obi-Wan swayed slightly - too imperceptible for anyone to notice. Trying to stay vertical, he rested his hand against the wall to keep from falling to his knees - which was where he felt like going.

"Come," said Serenity. "Let's go in the other room where we'll be more comfortable."

Leading them through a hallway, past several open doorways, the woman stopped in a large room with a high vaulted ceiling and an antique fireplace. Qui-Gon followed directly behind her, with Obi-Wan following - much to his approval.

Sitting down slowly on a firm sofa, Obi-Wan felt a sick weakness bubbling inside. Although Serenity and his master remained standing, the padawan felt that he would definitely faint if he stayed on his feet. He hoped they would not find his lack of manners rude, but in his condition, he really didn't care what they thought. Swallowing with difficulty, he found the nausea only increased.

"I thank you so much, Qui-Gon, for coming in person," Serenity said, her eyes sincere. "I know what a busy life you lead."

"I thought that you should hear about Dajer... what happened just before he... died. Obi-Wan was the one with him," the Jedi master explained gently.

They both looked at the padawan sitting on the sofa, staring at the floor.

"Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon said, as he and Serenity walked over to stand in front of the sofa.

Obi-Wan looked up to see his master's slight disapproval evident in his eyes. He knew Qui-Gon thought it discourteous for him to sit - especially without being invited to. Clamping down on the rising anxiety, the padawan rose slowly - unsteadily - to his feet.

"Mrs. Quaykin," Obi-Wan's voice trembled. He paused, trying to attain any sense of control - for it seemed that any control he'd had now lay far beyond him - distant and unreachable.

As the padawan tried to bring his reeling emotions back in order, Serenity took the opportunity to speak. "Dajer was such a handsome man," she gestured to her right. "I loved him very much. I... still can't believe he's gone," her voice broke.

Obi-Wan turned to look at what she had indicated. There, on the wall above the fireplace mantle, hung a large portrait of Dajer Quaykin. The man's eyes stared from the picture, seeming to bore through the padawan. Frozen there - with those penetrating eyes staring through him - Obi-Wan held his breath, captivated by the man's power.

Suddenly, unbidden images of the assault pranced through his mind, pulling his consciousness from the present - from the room where he stood - back to that horrifying night. He saw the man push him to the duracrete, saw the knife, felt the man's hands, felt the breath against his neck, heard the man's voice, and - finally - saw him fall.

"Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said, catching the young Jedi as he swooned.

"Oh, my," whispered Serenity.

Lowering his padawan to the sofa, Qui-Gon Force-scanned him, finding him only unconscious. But, his mind remained tightly closed off to any intrusion.

"The poor boy. I thought he looked ill," the woman said, leaning over the padawan, next to Qui-Gon. "What's wrong with him, Qui-Gon?"

"I'm not sure," the Jedi master replied, puzzled. "He just fainted."

"There's a spare room on the second floor. Would you like to put him there? He could probably rest better than on that hard sofa," Serenity asked with concern.

Carrying the unconscious padawan, Qui-Gon followed Serenity up a flight of stairs - since there were no lifts in the house - to a small bedroom where he laid the young Jedi on the bed. Serenity brought a crystal bowl and began bathing the young man's face with a wet cloth.

"What's going on, Mother," came a voice from the doorway.

Qui-Gon turned to see a slim man around thirty years of age, with jet black hair and dark eyes - Dajer's eyes.

"Valan, this is Master Qui-Gon Jinn and his apprentice. They're Jedi," Serenity explained as she continued bathing the padawan's face. She turned from the bed, saying, "They're friends of Dajer's. They came here to tell me what happened just before he died," she finished softly. "Qui-Gon, this is my son, Valan. I don't think you ever met him."

"No, I haven't," Qui-Gon replied politely, directing a nod to the newcomer.

Returning the nod, the man came further into the room and stared at the padawan lying on the bed. "What's wrong with him?" he questioned.

"He fainted," she explained.

A weak moan brought everyone's attention back to Obi-Wan. Barely opening his eyes, he tried to remember where he was. His thoughts still fuzzy, the padawan turned his head to the side of the bed, seeing his master, Serenity, and some man he did not recognize.

But, when the man's eyes met his, Obi-Wan felt unable to look away. Fear quickly came and went, as the man turned and left the room, pulling a cold shiver from the padawan.

He knew it would prove difficult coming here. But this far surpassed what Obi-Wan had expected. His loss of Force-control now felt totally strained. While he could sense the Force, it felt exhausted and distant. Now unable to get any firm hold on it, he let what he could feel slip from his grasp, feeling too drained of energy to fight for it.

"How are you feeling now?" Serenity asked, smiling.

"I... I'm fine now. Thank you," Obi-Wan answered softly. Then, he looked to Qui-Gon, who was studying him intently.

"I'll have Pila make us some tea," the woman said before leaving Obi-Wan alone with his master.

The padawan checked to make sure his mental shields were closed up tightly. They already were, much to Qui-Gon's immediate chagrin.

"Obi-Wan, is there something wrong?" Qui-Gon said, frowning - projecting a sense of peace toward the young man. Although the Jedi master felt sure that something was bothering his padawan, he was perplexed as to what to do with that knowledge. If he pushed too hard, Obi-Wan might very well withdraw further - blocking him out more than he already was.

"No, Master," he answered quietly, keeping his eyes away from Qui-Gon.

"Are you sure," his master asked, with an underlying tone of disbelief.

"Yes, Master," Obi-Wan answered, still unable to look at him. He hated shutting out his master like this, but he saw no other way to keep the truth from him.

* * *

The crystal cups were exquisite with their fine, antique etchings all around. Fashioned into ancient warriors battling draigons, the etchings demanded to be noticed and admired. Each cup told a different story, but they all fit together like one long fairy tale. In hand, one cup felt as if it were barely there - the fine crystal so delicate it would break if held too tightly. Serenity's collection of crystal was only used during special occasions.

After Obi-wan recovered somewhat from fainting, they all gathered in a small dining room on the top floor. A large window opened on one side of the room, showing a wide view of the endless, rolling verdure hills behind the house.

"Do you need some more tea, Master?" Obi-Wan quietly asked his master - who was engaged in a deep conversation with Serenity and her son Valan. The padawan had noticed that the cup was empty minutes ago, but as much as Qui-Gon was in the conversation, he never noticed it was empty - and even attempted to drink from it several times.

Without saying a word or turning his eyes to the young man, Qui-Gon handed the crystal to Obi-Wan. Taking the cup, the padawan walked to the buffet table by the wall and proceeded to refill its contents.

"Dajer was planning on closing down his medical research facility until just a week before he died. Then, he just changed his mind," Serenity said, frowning. "He never really said why he wanted to close it. I assume it had something to do with a difference in opinion with the man he appointed as the president," she said, accusatory.

"Mother, Father and I just had a few different ideas. That wasn't why he wanted to close it down," Valan argued.

"That's what you say," the woman said evenly.

Obi-Wan listened as he picked up the carafe of cold tea, pouring the brew into his master's cup.

"How have you been since... since Dajer's passing," Qui-Gon asked, gently - attempting to change the subject.

The padawan turned from the buffet table with Qui-Gon's now full crystal cup in his hand.

"Well, I've been better," she answered with a trace of bitterness. "But, I know I'll make it..."

As she spoke, Obi-Wan stood, listening in silence - his mind drifting with her words, hearing them all too well. The life he had taken was lost forever, and nothing he could ever do would make up for that. Caught up in the dreadful winter chill that blew through his soul, killing all hope of returning to the joyful days before Quaykin's death, Obi-Wan let slip the crystal cup from his hand, and it fell - shattering to innumerable pieces on the floor.

The next thing he heard was Serenity's gasp as the whole room fell silent. Coming to his senses, he noticed the three others staring at him. He looked at his master, then to Serenity. "I'm... I'm sorry, Mrs. Quaykin," he whispered.

Calmly, Serenity rose from the table and, stopping in front of Obi-Wan, knelt to clean up the mess of crystal. Obi-Wan slid to his knees to help.

"I'll get it, Obi-Wan," Serenity said quietly.

Obi-Wan met his master's steady gaze momentarily before the padawan looked away quickly and fled from the room.

* * *


	3. Veil of Secrecy

TITLE: SILENT SHATTERING

AUTHOR: Cascadia

* * *

CHAPTER 3 - VEIL OF SECRECY

Numbly watching the orchard of weeping Niqua trees gently swaying under the mid-day suns outside the large, ceiling-to-floor window in front of him, Obi-Wan tried to not think of that man anymore. Serenity's house offered several tiny observation rooms to gaze at the beauty of the surrounding landscape - while the front views offered glimpses of passing transits and other traffic, the others showed the visually-pleasing grass-covered hills and tree groves.

Dimly lit, so as to allow for greater viewing, the long, rectangular room consisted only of a long bench with walking space in front. Relieved to find the room empty, he had sat down to think. Or rather, not to think if he possibly could.

The outside light drifted in the tiny room through the window, softly illuminating the padawan's lovely face - the sorrow-filled pale blue depths of his eyes, brimming with bottomless pain. He shifted slightly, wrapping his robe more firmly around his slim waist, trying to fight off the imagined chill he felt threatening him.

When he had fled the room after breaking one of Serenity's antique crystal cups, he had searched for an appropriate place to seek solace from his internal turmoil. Not only did he feel embarrassed - and guilty - for destroying the antique cup, but he also feared Qui-Gon would somehow see through him, discovering his deepest, darkest secrets.

Fortunately, Qui-Gon had not forced him to recount the events leading up to Quaykin's death again. The Jedi master graciously repeated the story for Serenity, never asking Obi-Wan to add anything for him. But, hearing the sorrow Serenity harbored over her husband's passing pierced his heart, plunging him further into the bitter waters of pain - spawning a voracious, ravaging darkness. How could he ever recover from such torment? Did he even deserve to?

Something inside told him that he was merely paying for some unperceived, evil intention of his heart - that this was his lot - to blindly swim in the endless pools of fire and desolation for the rest of his unimportant, insignificant life.

He knew his Force control would be retrievable. But right now, any control he previously had lay far beyond his weary grasp. 'Draw near to the Force, and it will draw near to you', he remembered hearing his master say once. But, the overwhelming fear encircling him blinded him to its close proximity. And, his emotional fatigue kept him from battling for it at all.

Perhaps, he hoped, after this trip was over with and he was back at the Temple, then... maybe then, he could finally - permanently - put this all behind him. Maybe he would be fine then.

Closing his eyes tightly, he knew deep inside that it could never be. Brief though it may have been, he realized that even now he remained caught up in that one, terrible moment. He had never left it. All that he had endured at the hands of that man would forever be there - taunting, laughing, making merriment to his desperate, helpless struggle to leave it behind. Even after leaving this man's house, even after he returned to the Temple and never heard the man's name again - except perhaps on rare occasion - even then... there would be something dragging him back to the assault - something wickedly holding him captive.

"Why, Force?" he whispered, as the full-force of his despair erupted inside him, shuddering as the heavy weight settled. "Why me?" the fear in his voice almost tangible.

Even if Qui-Gon recovered completely, and everything else returned to normal, Obi-Wan would not. No matter what.

With the rousing horror of that realization too great to bear, Obi-Wan looked down at the lightsabre attached to his belt. It was an efficient weapon, capable of considerable damage. He ran his fingers along the side of it, feeling the strong, unyielding metal - the permanent, realistic quality of its existence. It was real. As real as his life. As real as Quaykin's death. Perhaps, if it were too unbearable to face the next day, the next moment... he could end it right now. Would he dare?

His hand settled on the grip of the weapon, tightening its grasp. Could he do such a thing? Would Qui-Gon be disappointed? Of course he would. Obi-Wan knew that. He just did not want to face it - like he did not want to face what happened with Quaykin.

"I can't," he whispered in the dim, empty room. Resting his face in his hands, he wiped tears away that spilled across his cheeks. "Why, Force? Why do I have to go on?" his soft voice gently broke.

"Obi-Wan?" came a quiet, tranquil voice, startling him for a heartbeat.

Immediately he clamped down on his mental shields, fearful of his master's intrusion - tightly sealing off his darkest secret, impenetrable to any siege.

He heard the rustle of cloth and felt the comforting presence of his master. Keeping his face hidden by his hands, he turned toward the wall at the end of the bench, away from Qui-Gon, before letting his hands fall to his lap. There, he leaned against the cool wall with his face turned away from his master.

Had Qui-Gon heard him? Did he know what was going through his padawan's mind? The hopelessness? The dread?

Obi-Wan sensed his master sit next to him. He closed his eyes, praying that Qui-Gon would go away. Then, he felt his master's hand clasp the nape of his neck.

"Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon softly said after a momentary pause. "We need to talk."

A long, strained silence followed, during which neither one moved. Obi-Wan's heart raced, seemingly impossible to halt its wild fluttering.

No. He did not want to talk. He did not want to be in his master's presence if that meant having to face that one event. Why wouldn't Qui-Gon leave him alone? Did the Jedi master suspect anything? There was no way he could, was there? As questions raced through his mind, Obi-Wan knew he was close to losing what little control he had.

"Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon tried for a response again. "Obi-Wan, talk to me," he gently said with a tone of desperation.

Shaking his head slightly, the padawan remained turned toward the wall.

A banging noise interrupted the stretching silence. Qui-Gon glanced out of the rectangular room, finding Pila - the plump housemaid - hard at work, cleaning the adjoining room.

"We need to talk, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon explained, returning his attention back to his apprentice. "Let's find someplace private so we can." Then, he stood, attempting to pull his padawan to his feet.

"No," Obi-Wan jerked his arm out of his master's grip, remaining turned toward the wall. "I don't want to talk," he said, his voice thick with emotion.

"Then, at least let me talk to you. But," Qui-Gon paused, "we need to go somewhere else." Seeing the padawan still unmoving, he added, "please, Obi-Wan."

"No," came the quiet reply, followed by a shaky breath.

"What is so terrible that you have to hide it from me," asked Qui-Gon calmly, with a touch of concern.

"I'm not hiding anything," the padawan said, hollowly.

"Then why are you acting like this?" Qui-Gon crouched in front of Obi-Wan trying to get the young man to look at him. But, the young Jedi's eyes were downcast, staring at the floor.

"I'm… not acting anyway," the padawan stumbled over the words, simply trying to evade answering the question - the lack of steadiness in his voice clearly evident.

Sighing, Qui-Gon stood up. He was out of ideas. It was very clear to Qui-Gon that something was wrong with Obi-Wan. And, he had a feeling that it had to do with Dajer Quaykin. Although he could not conceive what the problem might be, he knew that Obi-Wan had been different since the man's death. And, unless he could get Obi-Wan to tell him or open his shields enough to let Qui-Gon see for himself, then there was nothing the Jedi master could do to help.

Qui-Gon knew that he had helped to foster this lack of trust that existed between he and his padawan. It all went back to that insistent fear - and the rejection. And now it had blossomed into a lack of trust from Obi-Wan. The padawan would not confide in his master even when something horrific held him in its grasp.

"Obi-Wan, if you don't want to talk, then you don't have to. But at least let me talk to you." Qui-Gon crouched again in front of his padawan, searching his face. "Please. Let's go to another room so I can," he finished, sending a small spark of Force-enhanced calm to the young man.

Hoping that Obi-Wan would be more acquiescent, Qui-Gon gently pulled the young man to his feet. Then, he led his padawan through the room with Pila, into the hallway, and towards the end of the hall where he sensed no one.

The whole way, Obi-Wan's heart pounded unbearably. Taking several deep breaths did little to pause the growing nausea, nor steady his racing heart. By the time they reached the small study at the end of the hall, his breathing was nearly out of control.

Once they crossed the room's threshold, the Jedi master quickly half-dragged his padawan across the room and sat him on a plush lounge.

Obi-Wan's eyes frantically watched Qui-Gon as he retrieved a small glass and filled it with water from a carafe he spied on a table. Then, he pushed the glass in his padawan's trembling hand - keeping his large hand over the young man's so that he would not drop the glass.

Crouching before Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon steadily meet his padawan's wild gaze, holding it while he spoke. "Now, don't tell me nothing's wrong with you, padawan," he gently and calmly said.

Obi-Wan's unfathomable, blue eyes just grew larger. He knew there was no way he could deny that to Qui-Gon - not after this. As a cold shiver ran through him, he tried to control his panting breaths.

Projecting waves of calm through the Force to Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon pushed the glass up to his padawan's lips, still helping to hold the cup steady. "Drink, Obi-Wan," he gently ordered.

The padawan took several small sips of water. Then, as his breathing became less labored, he slowly swallowed larger gulps.

When Obi-Wan appeared more in control, Qui-Gon took the glass from him and replaced it on the table. Then, he slipped the padawan's robe off his shoulders, peeling the sleeves from his arms, and tossed the heavy cloak to the floor.

Distraught - and his breathing still unsteady - Obi-Wan was fully compliant as the Jedi master gently pushed his padawan to lie back on the lounge. Then, Qui-Gon sat on the edge of the chair, facing Obi-Wan. The padawan's eyes stared dully at his master, the look of despondency glazing over them. It pained him so badly to see Obi-Wan this broken.

Obi-Wan stared at the man before him - the man's face drawn with worry. If his master condemned him, then he would face it - he would willingly pay for whatever mistakes he made. He would rather face his judgement than live in this never-ending torment, keeping it bottled up inside of him. Even if Qui-Gon's disappointment in - and complete, irreversible rejection of - him destroyed him, he would rather live with that than let the merciless darkness suffocate his tortured soul.

"Master, I..." Obi-Wan's voice wavered, close to reversing his decision.

Leaning toward his padawan, Qui-Gon waited patiently for him to finish. He wanted to give the padawan every opportunity to say whatever he wanted, whatever he needed to say.

"Master," Obi-Wan started again, searching for the right words to tell what he wanted Qui-Gon to know. If only his master already knew. "Master, I... I..." he tried to push himself into a sitting position. "I Force-pushed him, Master," he forced out in a trembling voice.

"Force-pushed?" Qui-Gon echoed, his midnight blue eyes searching his young apprentice's face. "Who?"

The padawan closed his eyes, seeking the elusive tranquility that he knew he would not find.

"Dajer?" the Jedi master asked, guessing, but not entirely believing Obi-Wan's confession.

Obi-Wan's eyes shot open, inadvertently sending a wisp of panic through the Force. Holding his breath, the padawan simply nodded. His eyes remained transfixed on his master, wanting understanding and unconditional acceptance. He was so afraid that Qui-Gon would condemn him for his mistake - for taking the life of a friend. No matter what the man had done to him, Obi-Wan feared that his blunder would severely damage - if not destroy - the trust that his master had in him. And, he so desperately needed that trust and acceptance, especially now.

Although Obi-Wan did not elaborate on what resulted from the Force-push, the Jedi master suspected that was the reason Dajer fell and died. But the question remained of why Obi-Wan was compelled to push the man. What had happened that would make Obi-Wan do something like that? Qui-Gon knew the padawan would never do such a thing unless he possessed a good reason. But, Dajer would never do anything that should have made Obi-Wan Force-push him. His mind recoiled at the thought. It was all very confusing to the Jedi master.

"Master... I... didn't mean to... " Obi-Wan tightly closed his pain-filled eyes, "kill him," he breathed. Fearful of seeing Qui-Gon's reaction, the padawan kept his eyes closed. Feeling his master's large hands lightly grip his arms, he let out a shaky breath.

Seeing the trembling fear that gripped Obi-Wan, and confused by what he was hearing, Qui-Gon cautiously asked, "why... why did you Force-push him?"

At that, the padawan fell limp in Qui-Gon's hands. The Jedi master lowered him back on the lounge. Reaching out to Obi-Wan's mind, Qui-Gon bumped into those barricaded shields again. What did he have to do to gain his padawan's trust, to encourage Obi-Wan to tell him everything?

"I can't help you if you won't let me," the Jedi master quietly said. He watched his padawan's face contort into a mask of pain.

Turning on his side away from Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan whispered, "I... can't tell you." The humiliation, the embarrassment, of what had happened cut too deeply in Obi-Wan's sensitive heart to ever tell anyone - even Qui-Gon. He felt certain he could never speak of it.

Staring at his padawan's silken ginger hair, Qui-Gon wondered if he could ever breach Obi-Wan's fearfully constructed walls to see what lay hiding behind them, smothering the poor boy's trust and confidence. Somberly, the Jedi master stood and retreated from the room, seeking time to think.

After Qui-Gon was sufficiently distanced further down the hall, Obi-Wan allowed his tears to blossom into jerking sobs. He wept alone in the small study, feeling his master's presence recede to the other end of the house. After a short time, he drifted into a fatigue-inspired, deep sleep - oblivious to all around him.

* * *

In a state of shock from Obi-Wan's unexpected - and disquieting - confession, Qui-Gon wandered back to where Serenity was busy clearing the table. He knew the padawan would have a good reason to do what he did, at least... he hoped. To think that his padawan would make such a terrible mistake was unthinkable. But, why would Obi-Wan not tell him the reason?

Serenity looked up nervously when the tall Jedi master entered the room. As Qui-Gon stopped beside the table, she sauntered over to the doorway and peered down the hall.

She turned back toward him, smiling, "Qui-Gon, I want to show you Dajer's collection of speeders. I know you'll find them intriguing."

With a polite nod, he replied, "I'd be pleased."

Taking an old, beat-up speeder, the pair set off out across the dew-covered, winding hills - heading into an endless expanse of the grassy mounds.

"This is not one of Dajer's best speeders," Serenity laughed, her black braided hair mussing from the wind. "It was only used for emergencies... or when we wanted to sneak away for a few hours without Valan knowing." She glanced at the Jedi master who was driving the vehicle. "Valan never checks on this speeder. I don't think he even knows that it runs. That's why we keep it behind the garage," she explained. "Turn here," she pointed toward a grove of spindly trees to the left.

Qui-Gon dove the speeder past the clump of trees and around the side of a small warehouse, parking where Serenity indicated. Then, the Jedi master followed the woman into the building.

Lined along both sides of the long warehouse were nearly twenty speeders, each with their own unique design. Serenity strolled down the middle, Qui-Gon in step with her.

"Dajer had a thing about speeders," the woman said, her dark eyes sweeping over the large display. "He used to love coming out here to work on them... away from everybody and everything. I wish he could have showed them to you himself, but he kept all of this mostly a secret. That was the kind of man he was," her voice dropped in volume. "That was why he proved to be so valuable to his friends like the Jedi," she came to a standstill in the middle of the building, looking at Qui-Gon.

"An impressive collection, Serenity. But, that's not why you brought me out here, is it," he said matter-of-factly.

She took a deep breath before answering. "No, it's not." She glanced at the doorway where they had entered.

Qui-Gon waited patiently for her to gather her thoughts. He had no reason to think there was any danger. He had known the woman and her late husband for years, and the Force sent him no warning, either.

"Qui-Gon, what I need to tell you is confidential. You can tell Obi-Wan if you want, but be careful who you tell," she cautioned.

Qui-Gon nodded, prompting her to continue.

Leaning towards Qui-Gon, she spoke in a whisper. "Dajer is not dead. The man that came to Coruscant and died was a surgically-altered replacement - a man named Nim Tarren." She paused looking around self-consciously.

Qui-Gon finally regained his voice. "Are you sure about this?" he asked in disbelief.

Serenity nodded, whispering, "the real Dajer is being held captive by Valan."

"How do you know? The autopsy confirmed it was Dajer," the Jedi master said with a questioning gaze.

"I KNOW my husband, Qui-Gon," her eyes hardened. "Valan must have sent the wrong medical records. And besides that, I overheard the imposter talking to Valan about Dajer. They have him imprisoned somewhere," worry crept into her tone.

"Why would they have someone pose as him?" Qui-Gon asked, frowning.

"Because Dajer found out something that Valan was doing at the medical facility that he didn't approve of," she glanced around self-consciously again.

"Do you know what that might be?" Qui-Gon asked, wondering if that was why Dajer had contacted his friend Flane.

"I'm not sure. But, you have to help me find Dajer... alive," she pleaded.

"Of course, Serenity," the Jedi master replied. "Why didn't he cancel his trip to Coruscant?" he asked. "Wasn't he afraid that someone might notice it wasn't him?"

"Because the real Dajer was looking forward to the trip so much that it would have looked too suspicious if he cancelled. And, besides... if his own wife didn't notice, then why would someone else?" her eyes darkened.

Qui-Gon knew the name Nim Tarren. He was a wanted fugitive with a long list of crimes ranging from serial killing to conspiracy to rape - rape being his biggest weakness. The man was infamously unstable.

Qui-Gon's mind felt overloaded with all this new information. This was all so overwhelming. First Obi-Wan confesses to accidentally killing Dajer. Then Serenity tells him that Dajer was still alive, imprisoned by his own son.

Dajer still lived... and the man that Obi-Wan picked up at the spaceport was... a dangerous fugitive?

* * *

Lying intimately across Obi-Wan's face, the padawan braid gently slid past his nose, irritating the sleeping young man. Awakening, he opened his eyes, reaching up to push the softly woven strand behind his ear. The red rimming of his eyes - caused by shed tears - did little to distract from the alluring luminous glow that never seemed to leave them. He glanced around the room finding he was alone.

Trailing mental images of the nightmare he just woke from scampered to the back of his mind. Trying to sweep the frightening memories away, the padawan focused on the here and now, as his master encouraged him. However, that proved difficult when his mind seemed trapped in the harrowing moments of the sexual assault.

Pushing himself weakly to a sitting position, he discovered his entire body completely drained from the emotional breakdown. In a strange sense, it was almost relieving, having released some of that pent-up emotion. But, at the same time, it left a lingering tainting.

What he desperately needed now was a deep-trance meditation, something to - hopefully - restore him to his previous control and calm center in the Force.

Dropping to the floor, Obi-Wan knelt there to reach for the peace found solely through the Force. He closed his eyes, feeling a tiny trickle of tranquility descend upon him. Ever so slightly, the comforting drops of serenity fell, gradually increasing toward a gushing downpour. He was nearly gone into a state of pure ecstasy when a feeling of immediate danger surfaced, pushing him back to his surroundings.

Dropping all attempts to meditate, the padawan rose cautiously to his feet, silently listening, Sufficed to know that all was quiet, he crept into the hallway, feeling led to one of the closed doors. He stopped in front of it, sending a small, questioning tendril of the Force beyond. Abruptly, the door swooshed open, allowing entry.

Stealthily, he stepped in the room. As the door closed behind him, he quickly scanned the room. The small chamber was overloaded with dull shades of red and was very neatly kept... except for a darkened doorway that appeared to be cut into the wall. Feeling an insistent nudge from the Force to hide, he quickly slid behind a long sofa, keeping out of sight from the secret doorway.

Hearing the approaching footfalls, the padawan peered carefully around the sofa, seeing Valan emerge from the dark doorway. The man turned, reaching toward a keypad below a wall sconce to punch a code on it, bidding the wall to collapse back together, secretly concealing the doorway. Then, Valan left the room.

Although Obi-Wan had a small taste of peace, he still remained far from where he should be. The emotional battle within surged even as he stepped from behind his hiding place. What did Qui-Gon think of him now, knowing that he had killed the Jedi master's friend? The padawan knew Qui-Gon would not quickly dismiss the accident as just a hapless mistake.

But, whether or not his master would ever forgive him, he felt sure that he was utterly sullied by the depraved near-rape he suffered - and continued to suffer from every day - at the evil one-time whim of Dajer Quaykin. Now corrupted, with his innocence in question, the padawan wondered what a respectable, dignified Jedi master like Qui-Gon would choose to do with him.

In an impatient attempt to settle his quivering nerves, Obi-Wan quickly drew on the fading traces of Force-given peace that he felt only minutes earlier. It was not enough to do anymore than give a false sense of security. But, with the way Obi-Wan had been feeling recently, even that was welcome.

Trying to decide whether to investigate the mysterious hidden door, the padawan could sense no guidance from his slight hold on the Force - and he sensed Qui-Gon's presence far away. He could contact him through their training bond, but the padawan did not really want to talk to him. So, he crossed the room to the keypad, entering the code he caught from watching Valan.

After the doorway appeared, the padawan walked into the dark corridor.

* * *


	4. We Wrestle Not Against Flesh and Blood

TITLE: SILENT SHATTERING

AUTHOR: Cascadia

* * *

CHAPTER 4 - WE WRESTLE NOT AGAINST FLESH AND BLOOD

The dimness of the corridor only darkened the further he walked. Before, he could at least see which way it turned, but now he had to rely on the Force to guide him. Although his link felt weak, it served well enough to keep him from bumping into a wall.

The corridor suddenly fell away to a descending, metal spiral staircase. Stopping at the edge, the padawan reconsidered whether he should turn back or not. He could sense no guidance from the Force. So, after several momentary pauses, he started down the steps - careful to stay alert. He stepped cautiously on the first step, prudent to test his weight on the metal slat before proceeding further. Carefully descending down the winding steps, he checked each one before committing his entire weight.

He was making a reckless decision, he reluctantly told himself - investigating something odd like this without his master's knowing. But, there had been no danger at this house thus far. And, besides that, what did it matter now? His reputable master would undoubtedly be through with him. Grievously killing a man's friend - unintentional though it may have been - is not the best way to endear yourself to someone. Obi-Wan almost laughed at that thought. And if Qui-Gon would not have him, then he ultimately did not care what happened to himself anymore.

That was all he had fought so hard for. To be a Jedi apprentice to the highly esteemed Qui-Gon Jinn - the great, respected, sublime Jedi master. The man that had been nominated to be on the lofty Jedi Council not once, but twice. The man that never quite got over Xanatos' betrayal. How would that man get over his friend's death at the hand of a pathetic, weak padawan that nobody ever wanted... until he was practically forced on him by... what? Yoda? the Force? Even if it was the Force that brought them together that still did not mean that Qui-Gon WANTED that.

_/Master Qui-Gon blames you/ _said a derisive voice inside his head.

_/No. He didn't say that/ _he answered back.

_/You HURT him. You KILLED his friend/ _the mocking voice continued.

_/I didn't mean to. It was a mistake./_

_/He condemned you./_

_/No. Master Qui-Gon would never do that/ _he argued.

_/He abandoned you/ _the voice countered.

_/No. I told him I couldn't tell him./ _Desperation was seeping into his tone.

_/Then why did he leave/ _it said, triumphantly.

Stopping abruptly halfway down the twisting steps, Obi-Wan tried to put his thready focus back on the Force where it belonged. Inexorable hopelessness was craftily rationalizing its way behind his battered defenses. And the heartbreaking truths - or half-truths - that it used as its malevolent weapons struck deep in his anguished heart. That vile, insatiable darkness that swept threateningly around him, through him, stroking his wounded soul - cruelly lacerating it like broken glass - promised no quarter to the victim of its wicked conquest. Now, all hope seemed shadowed, covered by the twilight shades of doom and recompense - while all thoughts of impunity lay slaughtered at the feet of Fate.

Why did Qui-Gon leave him? He sensed his master's presence far off. But why was he? What was he doing? Why did he carelessly leave Obi-Wan there without telling him or leaving a message for him? Through their training bond he could ask Qui-Gon the insecure questions that perilously swarmed his mind. But, the padawan was still too shyly withdrawn to even seriously think of attempting such a brave thing.

Despairingly lost in his confusing thoughts, he - somehow, for some unknown reason (that he would probably never know) - recalled a seemingly bygone conversation he had with Master Qui-Gon while returning from a fairly routine mission nearly two years ago when the venerable Jedi master received a serious abdominal wound. Bleeding profusely and barely conscious, Qui-Gon had told the extremely worried padawan that he would never leave him...

They had expectantly waited hours for a rescue ship in the heavy-heated Dasahri desert on Prinishar V. The master and apprentice knew it would take a long time for the shuttle to arrive, and both knew the life-threatening danger of Qui-Gon's wound that he received when they had been forced to land because of a malfunctioning central computer. Obi-Wan could not help but be worried that his master would not make it alive. But, seeing Obi-Wan's raging worry over his condition, Qui-Gon had tried to keep the padawan from losing all hope.

"Padawan," Qui-Gon had said. "We will both survive." The blood-soaked tunic of the Jedi master stained continuously with fresh fluid. "You will, and I will," he firmly added, coughing weakly. "And no matter what happens, I will always be there for you. I will never leave you, Obi-Wan. Never."

But, of course his master would leave him, he reasoned in painful bitterness. Qui-Gon's promise could only be a lie. He would die sometime. This inevitable truth that Qui-Gon would die only strengthened Obi-Wan's savage insecurities. So, if that was a lie - albeit seemingly insignificant - what other lies had his master inexcusably told him - or so the dark whispers mercilessly asked.

Closing his eyes to ward off the rising swells of stinging betrayal, the padawan dragged his thoughts back to his present surroundings. His master would tell him to concentrate on the here and now... not on the there and gone. And, Master Qui-Gon would not lie to him, he consoled himself.

What was happening to him, Obi-Wan wondered? Why were his thoughts so hopeless? so negative? Pausing to touch the gentle, warm caresses of the Force - so close, yet so frighteningly vague - he focused his mind on that tiny glimmer of hope that it graciously held out to him, beckoning for his acceptance of it - complete and unconditional, without fear of revocation. The raging spiritual battle inside of him seethed as dark and light fought for possession of his soul.

Finally reaching to the bottom of the long, twisted stairway, he found himself in a narrow hallway with one, single ceiling lamp that sent a broken spray of light bleeding across the rugged stone walls and uneven floor. As he walked to the end of the hall where a lone door stood closed, the sound of the cold stone beneath his boots echoed softly in the narrow corridor. He paused for a still moment, considering his options. He could continue toward the door - see what lay beyond it - or he could turn around and return back the way he had come. There did not appear to be anything else down here - only the corridor with the door at the far end.

Sensing a gentle tugging from the Force, the padawan tried to determine if it were telling him to leave this mysteriously concealed place or not. He strangely felt that something lay on the other side of that door - something... he should see. And, curiosity is a hard thing to defeat - especially for the young. So, he ventured onward to the wooden door.

Sending a scintilla of Force energy in the door's heavy, rusted metal lock, Obi-Wan received a short click in response. He slowly pushed the door inward, bracing himself for any possible attack. The long, screeching creak of the swinging door filled the whole corridor with a haunting echo until it came to a stop about halfway opened.

Fortunately, another ceiling lamp hung inside the cool chamber, bizarrely painting the chamber in a soft rushlight - pale and feeble in luminosity. He crept cautiously in the room, his hand hovering expectantly above his lightsabre.

As a sudden movement to his right caught his attention, without a thought, the padawan drew his weapon, bringing the bright blue flash and steady humming to life. He was in a defensive stance in less than a second, waiting for his thoughts to catch up with his actions.

As his eyes gradually adjusted to the dull light of the room, Obi-Wan's gaze froze on a man rising to his feet in the corner of the chamber. The padawan's slow dawning recognition - brought on by intense denial - kept him from reacting any further as the man stood, looking worriedly at him. The man opened his mouth, stammering over unspoken words.

Unconsciously backing away, Obi-Wan tightened his grip on his lightsabre handle. No. It could not be, he tried to convince himself. As the padawan pressed against the wall that he had unknowingly backed up to, the man took a hesitant step forward, pausing in bewilderment.

With his hands trembling violently, Obi-Wan still held his lightsabre guardedly in front of him, prepared to ward off any threat. As the man stepped closer again, the padawan lifted the weapon higher in a fearfully defensive - almost threatening - gesture.

"Are you here to rescue me or put me out of my misery?" the man asked with a crooked smile - partly serious, partly amused.

Obi-Wan shook his head once, in confusion. Cowering, he sank against the wall behind him.

"Well, you look like a Jedi apprentice, so I guess you're not going to harm me." The man confidently stepped closer, extending his hand, "I'm Dajer Quaykin. It's a pleasure to meet you, my rescuer."

"No, you can't be," Obi-Wan breathlessly whispered.

Seeing the young Jedi wasn't moving from his defensive/threatening posture - and confused by the padawan's strange response - Quaykin dropped his vain attempt to shake the padawan's hand and - with a friendly nod - strolled wordlessly out of the dank chamber.

With the man gone, Obi-Wan slid down the wall, dropping his lightsabre. It fell, dully clanking on the damp stone floor - its monotone hum dying as it safely extinguished itself. He was in a state of shocked horror - to say the least. Unable to gather the presence of mind to rise to his feet and leave, the padawan sat there drawing up his knees towards him - his mind frozen in timid shock and desolate disquietude - staring at, yet not seeing, the far wall.

* * *

Upon returning to the house, Qui-Gon and Serenity slipped in the back door, hoping that Valan had not seen them bring the beaten speeder back from the rolling hills. Seeing no one in sight, they went to the dining room.

Serenity paused, her eyes blankly staring in the distance out the window. "My son is a terrible person," the woman whispered, looking back at Qui-Gon, her eyes bleary. "I hate to think that I helped raise him."

Giving her a well-intentioned, sympathetic look, Qui-Gon's thoughts drifted back to his padawan. He knew he should start trying to find Dajer, but he needed to check on Obi-Wan first.

Obi-Wan was so upset. Why did he leave the padawan alone when he definitely needed someone with him? The Jedi master recalled how he himself was so confused and shocked by Obi-Wan's confession of killing Dajer, that he had not been lucid in his thoughts. Leaving his apprentice here in that condition was not a good idea. True, Pila and Valan had been here. But, neither one could reach - or comfort - Obi-Wan like he could. Nor did they know what the padawan thought he had done. He was Obi-Wan's master. It was his responsibility to care for him when he needed it.

Qui-Gon was about to excuse himself to find Obi-Wan when someone walked into the room.

"Hello, Serenity," the man said, smiling broadly.

"Dajer," she exclaimed, running to him. As they embraced, a voice interrupted.

"Starting the reunion without me?" said Valan sarcastically from the doorway.

"You must have thought I was stupid to not realize that imposter wasn't Dajer," Serenity accused. "I must admit that he did a good job... but not good enough," she added with a hint of sadness. "It was horrifying to realize that it wasn't him," her voice grew softer.

"How did you find him, Mother?" Valan demanded, obviously upset by the turn of events.

"She didn't," Dajer interjected. "A young Jedi did." Glancing briefly at Qui-Gon, he turned back to his son. "I was afraid you were going to use me for one of your... medical experiments that you're so fond of," he said, wryly.

"I would never do that, Father," said Valan.

"Then what were you going to do with me? Leave me in that blasted cellar for the rest of my life?" Dajer chuckled quietly.

"I... I don't know," Valan answered, looking away.

"You never did think very far in advance, did you, Valan?" Dajer said sympathetically.

"I did when I designed this house," Valan argued. "I made sure to keep that cellar I kept you in a secret."

"Where's my wonderful replacement - that awful Nim Tarren?" Dajer asked his son.

"Tarren's dead. He fell several levels on Coruscant and died," Serenity informed Dajer.

"Is that so? I guess there is justice in the galaxy. Nim Tarren was a terrible man," Dajer said. "I can't believe you would ever have any dealings with that monster."

"I should have never trusted a maniac like him," Valan bitterly said. "And to think that I went to so much trouble with the surgery to make him look and sound like you, Father."

Gesturing toward Qui-Gon, Dajer said, "lock him in the closet at the end of the hall."

Valan willingly left with the Jedi master.

* * *

After a few moments of mindlessness, Obi-Wan regained some sense of where he was. Yet, he still remained caught up in a dawning tempest of perplexity. How could Quaykin be here when the padawan had seen him fall to his death, when he had witnessed the man's body burnt up at the funeral?

A familiar presence fell lightly across his consciousness - serene and caring in its prodigious magnitude. He looked up to see Qui-Gon standing at the door. Quickly, Obi-Wan looked away - fearful of his master seeing the unspeakable depths of pain in his eyes.

Qui-Gon entered the chamber, crouching beside him. "Obi-Wan? Are you alright?" he asked.

Without looking at the Jedi master, Obi-Wan nodded shyly, making a move to retrieve his fallen lightsabre. A strong hand on his arm stopped him, but he refused to look up.

"Obi-Wan," started a worried voice. "Dajer is alive - as I guess you know by now. I only found out from Serenity a short time ago."

Listening, the padawan tried to sort through what he was hearing.

Qui-Gon saw the confusion spreading across Obi-Wan's face. "Valan imprisoned his father and had another man undergo surgery to look and sound like him. The man you encountered on Coruscant was the imposter. He was Nim Tarren," he said, pausing to see Obi-Wan's reaction.

The young Jedi knew he had heard the name before, but was not sure who he was.

"He was a fugitive, Obi-Wan. A very dangerous man," Qui-Gon supplied, observing the padawan's behavior.

After Serenity's divulgence that Dajer was alive and Tarren posed as him, the Jedi master began wondering what Tarren might have done to make Obi-Wan Force-push him. There was a list of things that an unstable man like that might have tried, so Qui-Gon could not be sure. But, he feared that by the padawan's recent withdrawn behavior, it could very well be a sexual assault - Tarren was known to have sexually assaulted males and females. Why else would Obi-Wan be embarrassed to tell him? If it had simply been that Tarren had attacked him in a non-sexual way, then it would be no different than on missions Qui-Gon had been on with his padawan. They had both been attacked many times. So, with what other reason would Obi-Wan not tell him?

Then, Obi-Wan softly spoke. "Why did you leave me, Master?" He raised his eyes up to look into Qui-Gon's, waiting for an answer.

Struck by the timid, child-like way in which his padawan questioned him - and staggered by the swelling pain in those aquamarine eyes - Qui-Gon could find no words to explain the thoughtless action.

Looking away, the Jedi master tried to gather an appropriate response.

"I'm sorry, Obi-Wan," he said at last. "I was shocked to hear you say that you Force-pushed Dajer, and I was not thinking clearly," he explained.

"You... didn't blame me for Mr. Quaykin's death?" Obi-Wan hesitantly asked, searching the Jedi master's face.

"Blame you? No. Though I was concerned," Qui-Gon answered truthfully.

Satisfied with his master's apology, Obi-Wan realized that his insecurities of Qui-Gon's supposed lying to him were exaggerated. His master would not do that, he told himself. And, of course Qui-Gon would be concerned about what happened concerning Quaykin's death - Obi-Wan wouldn't tell him why he Force-pushed the man. So, it was understandable. He knew Qui-Gon would not condemn him, as he had feared. Feeling some of the stifling heaviness leave him at that thought, Obi-Wan sensed a warm glow embrace him - a gentle kiss from the Force.

"Would you like to talk about what happened between you and Tarren?" Qui-Gon asked gently, trying to make his padawan feel comfortable enough to tell him.

With a small shake of Obi-Wan's head as the only response, the young man stared at the floor in front of him.

A long, aching silence followed.

"Qui-Gon?" Serenity said from the doorway. "Is Obi-Wan alright?" she asked.

"Yes," said the Jedi master.

Seeing that the woman was not going to leave until they did, Qui-Gon handed Obi-Wan his lightsabre. Then he stood up, and the two Jedi followed her out.

* * *

Letting himself into his padawan's quarters, Qui-Gon could hear the blasting water from the shower. He stopped outside the door, knocking. "Obi-Wan?" he shouted to be heard over the gushing water.

"Yes, Master?" the padawan answered after a slight pause.

"Are you almost ready?" asked the Jedi master.

"Yes, Master."

Hearing the water stop, Qui-Gon glanced around the bedroom. Obi-Wan's laundry lay scattered over the floor. Being the organized master that he was, Qui-Gon gathered up a few items, intending to put them away. He opened a drawer and pushed things aside to make more room. Spying a crumpled-up tunic that definitely did not belong in this particular drawer, he pulled it out to put it in its proper place. But as he did so, the tunic unfolded, revealing a huge rip - a rip that Obi-Wan had never mentioned to him. Evidently, his padawan was concealing it for some reason.

Since the trip back to the Temple, Qui-Gon had continued to muse over just what Nim Tarren - the man posing as Dajer Quaykin - had done to his padawan. What terrible act had this criminal committed against Obi-Wan to break the young Jedi so? The more he thought, the more he was sure it was some type of sexual assault. Although Qui-Gon did not want to believe it was, he had increasingly considered that to be probable. Now - with the hidden, torn tunic - it was sobering, having some physical evidence that he might be right.

Tarren evidently thought that he could assault Obi-Wan, then kill him and tell the Jedi that someone else did it. That was the best explanation that Qui-Gon could come up with.

So far, the padawan had not been forthcoming, and showed no signs of cooperation either. Every attempt to encourage Obi-Wan to talk with Qui-Gon, a healer, or anyone else was only met with the padawan's stubborn refusal. Yet still, the young man had not shed the dark, dreadful shroud of brokenness - the look of defeat painfully clung to him. And, the padawan had also become increasingly withdrawn since then, and rarely spoke now - and then only when it became necessary. Qui-Gon seriously doubted that he would recover without help.

But, Obi-Wan had kept a mental distance from Qui-Gon ever since the padawan's disclosure of killing Tarren. And, what made matters worse, their failure to connect had caused Qui-Gon to cancel almost every practice session together since their return to Coruscant. There was simply no point in training with things this way.

Hurriedly, Qui-Gon stuffed the tunic back in the drawer and dropped the other clothes to the floor, as he heard Obi-Wan shuffling around in the 'fresher. Just as he sat on the edge of the bed, Obi-Wan appeared - his hair still damp.

Hesitantly glancing at Qui-Gon, the padawan shrugged into his robe.

"Obi-Wan? Sit down," the Jedi master gently ordered, patting the bed. He knew this would be difficult - for both of them. But, it was something that had to be dealt with soon.

Quietly, Obi-Wan sat, keeping a comfortable distance between them.

Taking a deep breath, Qui-Gon attempted to gather enough courage to confront Obi-Wan with what the padawan had been trying to avoid. Speaking in the most gentle, compassionate voice he could muster, he said, "Obi-Wan? I think we need to talk about what happened with Tarren." He paused, swallowing. "Did Tarren... rape you?" He forced himself to say the words - not believing what he was saying.

Obi-Wan shook his head slightly as he stared at the floor.

"Did he try to?" the Jedi master asked.

After a moment of silence, Qui-Gon glanced at Obi-Wan to see the young man's head bowed, his fingers nervously playing with the frayed hem of his robe.

"Obi-Wan, we can't ignore this forever," the Jedi master gently added.

Obi-Wan stood up abruptly and walked into the 'fresher, locking the door behind him.

* * *


	5. Buried Deep Within

TITLE: SILENT SHATTERING

AUTHOR: Cascadia

* * *

CHAPTER 5 - BURIED DEEP WITHIN

Containing a vast wealth of near-infinite knowledge gathered by innumerable individuals over many centuries, the high vaulted chamber was filled with enormous, tall shelves running on endlessly. Its copious knowledge lay unrivaled by any collection in the known Republic. Almost any information that the Jedi required was contained within the wondrously large collection of the Archives Library at the Jedi Temple.

Settling down in front of a computer screen, Obi-wan laid several data discs down on the desk beside him. Sensing his master's drowsiness after trying to get him to talk about what happened with Tarren, the padawan had sent subtle Force-suggestions to Qui-Gon, lulling the man to sleep while he waited for Obi-Wan to come out of the 'fresher. After he was sure that Qui-Gon was asleep, he had slipped out of his quarters and fled to the Archives Library to complete some reading assignments that he had fallen behind in.

It had proven extremely difficult for him to get his mind off of Tarren recently and to concentrate on learning anything. Although Qui-Gon knew that the padawan was suffering in his studies, he had not pressured him, nor said anything to dishearten him. Obi-Wan was sure it was because his master felt sorry for him. Qui-Gon had undoubtedly figured out what happened with Tarren. The events earlier today had proven that. But, Obi-Wan preferred to never talk about it. If he could just forget about the whole thing, then maybe he would be fine.

Another fear the padawan had was that Qui-Gon would dismiss him because of the... attack - as he preferred to call it. Why would his master keep him now? The terrible episode would definitely sully both of their images - Qui-Gon's simply because of his association with him as his master. The Jedi master was well respected and dignified, and a stain like this would undoubtedly bring shame to him - shame and embarrassment. Obi-Wan knew he himself could never escape that, but Qui-Gon could by distancing himself from his padawan.

Inserting a data disc in the computer, Obi-Wan accessed the appropriate chapter where he had left off - or rather the last chapter he had read three times and still not remembered. It was about the ceremonial customs of the Fajar race on Darrit in the Mid Rim. Obi-Wan had never been there, but the planet was having trouble with political instability recently, and many Jedi talked about a probable outbreak of civil war there.

After reading one sentence four times - trying to keep his mind on understanding it - he felt as if he were being watched. Looking up, Obi-Wan saw three padawans that he knew who were standing several feet away. They quickly looked away from him, pretending that they had not been watching him. He knew that everyone probably had guessed by now the grisly nature of what had transpired between himself and Tarren. And these three padawans had - undoubtedly - been talking about him, about what had happened to him. Staring at them, Obi-Wan noticed them nervously glancing at him several times before walking away and disappearing between two shelves.

It always hurt him when something like this happened. This wasn't the first time that he knew someone was talking about him and what had happened to him. At other times he recognized looks of sympathy or even fear, as some padawans did not seem to know what to say or do around him simply because of the assault. Even his friends had become distanced from him, looking for excuses to not be around him anymore. But, Obi-Wan recalled how he tried to keep away from them, too. So, perhaps there was some fault on both sides. But, it nevertheless still hurt.

He was dirty, and he knew it. Why would a nearly violated padawan be allowed to stay in an Order that inculcated virtue? Perhaps they were just waiting until he told them, so they could throw him out from his own admission. That way, there would be no need for an investigation to prove his loss of innocence. They already had kept him from any missions or anything else important.

Fighting back a swell of tears that threatened to form, Obi-Wan stood up from the computer and left the library. He walked as quickly as he could from there to a conservatory on the other side of the Temple where he knew few Jedi ever go. It was small compared to the Room of a Thousand Fountains, but the quiet, solitude that it offered made up for anything else.

Entering in the room, the padawan found the place empty as it usually was. He crossed the chamber, stopping in front of an oval pool of water dashed with plum Brakken satin-lilies. The still pool was strikingly beautiful to gaze in - especially during the day, when the sunlight broke through the conservatory's transparent ceiling and teasingly played along the surface of the pool, reflecting intense rays of light and the sprays of lush foliage from the surrounding trees and flowers. He sat down there beside the pool, gazing at the mirrored reflections, letting his troubled mind wander.

His thoughts drifted back to Valan and his scheme to cover up his experiments at the medical facility. Qui-Gon had explained the whole thing to him later. Valan was using small sentient beings as unwilling test subjects for new drugs. The beings were being kidnapped and kept there at the medical facility against their will. A few had died and some had suffered abnormal reactions, developing serious problems. When Quaykin discovered Valan's experiments, he threatened to tell authorities if his son did not stop. Valan, preferring to continue his questionable experiments, contacted Nim Tarren to pose as his father. Valan had met Tarren before on a business trip to Kyllmott, where he first contracted a man who knew Tarren there to capture beings to be used as lab subjects. So, when Valan decided to prevent his father from ever telling anyone, he thought of Tarren and contacted him to pose as his father - at least until Valan could decide what to do about the whole situation. Tarren agreed to for a large sum of credits. And, since Dajer's scheduled visit to the Jedi on Coruscant was something Dajer was looking forward to so much, then Tarren agreed to go through with the visit to prevent anyone from suspecting he was an imposter. However, Tarren made the mistake of trying to rape a Jedi padawan.

Obi-Wan tightly closed his eyes, praying for the unwanted images and feelings from that terrible encounter to go away forever. But, he knew that there would always be something there to remind him - a stray thought, an uneasy feeling, a word, a touch.

He shuddered.

There was no danger now, he tried consoling himself. Tarren could not touch him anymore. The man was dead. Now, the padawan was alone. All alone.

But, the suffocating loneliness that surrounded him now could be directly attributed to that assault.

Suddenly, gentle waves of the Force stirred around him, tenderly touching his consciousness. It softly blew through his tortured spirit, sweeping through with pure lovingness, engulfing him in a peace beyond any comprehension. Then, it was gone as quickly as it came. A strange phenomenon. He had not asked for that touch from the Force, but it came none-the-less, with no apparent reason or conditions. Perhaps it was a small reminder that he was not alone in his turmoil, that the Force would be there beside him, carrying him if it became necessary.

"Need a friend, do you?" a familiar, scratchy voice broke onto his thoughts.

Startled, Obi-Wan looked behind him to find Master Yoda watching him. The little, green, old Jedi master hobbled over to sit stiffly beside him.

"No, Master Yoda. I-"

"Came here to be alone, you did," Yoda interrupted. "This, I know. Nevertheless, a friend you need."

Obi-Wan opened his mouth to protest.

"Deny it, you will. But know you, I do - better than you know yourself, Padawan." The little master laid his gimer stick across his lap and stared at the reflecting pool before them.

Obi-Wan desperately searched for any excuse to leave. It was achingly apparent that Yoda was settling in to stay for awhile. But, the padawan did not want to talk to him. Since his return from Jaross, he had worked hard to avoid any activity with the wise Jedi Councilor - mostly succeeding in that respect - for the little master was very perceptive and would not avoid a subject if he felt that it demanded attention.

Yoda turned his eyes upon the padawan. The young man's face looked so young, so pure and innocent - even angelic - and so heart-breakingly troubled. The sunlight set fire the padawan's silken hair to a glistening gold. His strong jaw was set with determination - or perhaps it was stubbornness. And, his aquamarine eyes - tempestuous as icy light blues mixed with billowing oceanic greens - glared rebelliously at the pale, ghostly reflections in the mirrored pool.

The padawan knew that Yoda must suspect what had happened to him. EVERYONE must, he thought miserably. He was sure that everyone - his friends, masters, councilors - knew the nature of the frightening assault.

"A many things still have you to learn. A danger fear is, young padawan," said Yoda, his ears drooping slightly. "Court it you must not."

"Fear?" Obi-Wan said, looking over at the little Jedi. The padawan frowned, taken aback by what he perceived as a personal attack. But the compassion clearly present in the little master's eyes quickly melted the spark of anger.

"Stray you from your destiny, it will," the little master continued, calmly. "Release your fear to the Force, you must. Or suffer, you will." Yoda stared into the distance, as if seeing something in the far distance, something that only he could see.

Obi-Wan sat in silence, unsure of what to say. Was he afraid of something, he wondered? Was Master Yoda right?

"Fearful of the past, the future," Yoda supplied, as if reading his mind. "Fearful of your position within the Order... fearful of Qui-Gon," he added softly, his large eyes closing.

"I'm not afraid of Master Qui-Gon," Obi-Wan argued, looking back at the little master. Annoyance smoldered beneath his countenance.

"Then why here are you?" Yoda's large eyes blinked slowly, sadly.

"I... just wanted to be alone." He stumbled over the words, looking back at the pool. Then, he clasped his hands to stop their slight trembling.

"Alone, a heart will suffer, even die. Love, it needs to keep it strong."

"I'm not alone like that," the padawan explained. "I have friends... And there's Master Qui-Gon," his voice quivering at the mention of his master's name.

"And trust you must have in them, or else alone you are. Trust Qui-Gon, you must. Still loves you, he does." The words fell softly from the Jedi master's lips.

After a silent moment, Obi-Wan quietly replied, "I trust him." Although, his tone sounded more as if he were trying to convince himself.

"Then go to him, you must," said Yoda, belying urgency.

"Why?" Obi-Wan quickly blurted out before realizing how insubordinate he sounded to a Jedi master. But, he was well aware of the nature of what Yoda suggested.

The wizened little master sighed, turning his huge eyes to the young man beside him. "Know you do, what must be done. This burden alone can not be carried. Release there must be or healing there will be not."

"I'm not alone if I have the Force," Obi-Wan countered.

"True, young padawan. But tried to claim you the dark side has. And when completely surrender to the Force one will not, then needed outside help is."

Obi-Wan stood up abruptly - upset by the Jedi master's words and intent on leaving. "I need to go," he said absently.

Yoda watched him sadly, his large eyes widening. "If go you must, remember, solves nothing running away does. Only makes matters worse. Your destiny alone, you must walk. None other can traverse that path which the Force has chosen for you. But prepared now you are not. Listen not to the Force you do, or leave now you would not."

After the Jedi master's words sunk in, Obi-Wan turned and left the conservatory.

* * *

Returning to the Library Archives, Obi-Wan wondered among the shelves, trying to find a quiet place to think - where no one would watch him. He stopped in the middle of a row where no one was and just stood there, thinking.

Yoda had said so many things. The circling questions left his head spinning. Wasn't he listening to the Force? Was he afraid of Qui-Gon?

Just then, his com-link beeped. When he didn't immediately answer it, the beep sounded again.

Hesitantly, he turned it on. "Yes?"

"Padawan?" came the voice of his master, crackling over the transmission. "Meet me in the hanger now," he ordered in his masterly tone.

"The hanger?" he asked, in unbelief.

"Yes, Obi-Wan. Now." The transmission clicked off.

Replacing his com-link in the pouch on his belt, Obi-Wan wondered what Qui-Gon was planning. Why was he supposed to meet him in the hanger? Were they going somewhere? Did they have a new mission?

Surely not a mission, he thought. His master would not think the padawan was prepared for that. Qui-Gon had not said anything to that effect, but Obi-Wan knew the Jedi master thought that he needed to talk about Tarren before they resumed their regular schedule. And, that was exactly what Obi-Wan did not want to talk about... ever.

But, he could not allow himself to avoid Qui-Gon ultimately. The man was his Jedi master, and he would obey him as best as he could - until he felt threatened into talking about Tarren, that is.

Slowly, the padawan walked to the hanger, hating every step there. As soon as he entered, the tall Jedi master motioned him over.

Qui-Gon stood by a shuttlecraft with his folded hands concealed by huge sleeves, patiently waiting until Obi-Wan came to a nervous stop a few feet in front of him. Qui-Gon felt sure that his earlier 'nap' was brought on by more than just normal drowsiness, and that the deception had emanated from the young man before him. At another time, in another place, he might find some humor in the situation, but definitely not now.

"Get in the shuttle, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon firmly said.

Confused about the turn of events, the padawan did not obey immediately.

"Now," the Jedi master ordered - noticing Obi-Wan flinch slightly from the gruff order - ending all debate that the padawan might provide. Fiery midnight blue eyes warned against any more rebellion.

Grudgingly, Obi-Wan walked up the landing ramp, disappearing inside. Whatever his master had in mind, the padawan did not like the way it was going.

With Qui-Gon piloting and Obi-Wan in the co-pilot's seat, the tiny shuttle blasted out of the Temple's private hanger and disappeared into the engulfing vastness of outerspace.

Obi-Wan unstrapped his safety harness and stood self-consciously.

"Where are you going?" Qui-Gon said in a clipped tone.

"To lie down and sleep," the padawan explained quietly, afraid of Qui-Gon's response.

"Sleep if you want. But the trip won't take long. We'll be there in a few hours," Qui-Gon explained as he stared out the front viewscreen.

Pausing just behind Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan contended whether to inquire about where they were going and why.

"We're going to Lorminth, Obi-Wan - where we'll stay a few days," the Jedi master explained as if knowing the questions that he had but were afraid to ask.

Why Lorminth, the padawan wondered to himself. It was a green timberland planet in the Core Worlds - peaceful and sparsely populated. Satisfied to not ask any questions, Obi-Wan drifted to the back of the shuttle to sleep and - most importantly - get away from Qui-Gon for awhile.

Master Yoda had contacted Qui-Gon concerning Obi-Wan, advising that the Jedi master needed to get his padawan away from the Temple to seek restoration for Obi-Wan - and for their strained bond.

With the suggestion of several healers Qui-Gon chose a planet with unspoiled beauty. A small cabin there on Lorminth sometimes was used by the Jedi for various reasons, and it was situated in a wide valley with crystal-pure streams and tall, stately trees. The only wildlife present was non-threatening and would pose no threat.

After the shuttle deftly landed in a small clearing near the cabin on Lorminth, Qui-Gon led Obi-Wan to the small housing where they would be staying for... however long the Jedi master deemed it necessary. The Council had granted permission for leave of absence for both of them - and they would not be bothered by the Temple for any reason.

Quietly, the padawan followed Qui-Gon into the sturdily constructed cabin. Providing a private retreat from everyday life, the remote lodging stood at the edge of a grouping of trees - the roof half concealed by reaching tree limbs and draping moss.

Placing their bags about the room, Qui-Gon glanced at Obi-Wan, who stood barely beyond the cabin's doorway. The padawan stared at the floor, sullen and distant.

"Would you like to go hiking, Obi-Wan? There are some fine hiking trails nearby," the Jedi master asked - hopeful.

A slight shake of the head was the only answer Qui-Gon received.

"Something to eat?" he gently said.

Another negative response.

"Then what would you like to do?" Qui-Gon stood in front of his padawan.

Shrugging his shoulders, Obi-Wan kept his eyes downcast.

Qui-Gon drew in a deep breath. Releasing it, he reached to the Force for some guidance in this gloomy situation. Before he finished, Obi-Wan walked over to a lumpy chair and sat down. The padawan just sat there - unmoving, uncaring, staring at the dusty floor.

It was then that Qui-Gon made up his mind. He would force Obi-Wan to go hiking with him - if only to keep the padawan from withdrawing completely. Knowing that Obi-Wan would go with him if he ordered it, the Jedi master spoke up - his voice calm and forceful, "we will go hiking now. Come on."

Qui-Gon waited patiently as his padawan hesitantly stood and trudged out the door. Outside, the fresh forest scents and warm, rushing breezes assailed them as they headed toward a wooded area.

Obi-Wan slowed to allow his master to take the lead. He did not relish the idea of coming here to this planet, nor did he wish to walk through the forest. Keeping his eyes glued to the ground, he tried to ignore the quiet, pristine environment. However, it proved difficult to completely block out the verdant, regal beauty of the tender woodlands and mossy forest floor. Just being in this primeval place filled one's senses with the pure, unspoken praises of life. The Living Force sang here... but not joyously to a broken spirit.

He wondered why Qui-Gon had made him come here, but would not dare ask him. He had a suspicion that this was all a ploy to get him to open up and talk about Tarren, but he had no desire to do such a thing. The silent gap that had grown between them kept him from speaking up when he normally would have. If he never again spoke to his master as he once did, it would not be a surprise.

Although he knew that Qui-Gon had guessed what had transpired between himself and the fugitive posing as Quaykin, he tried to pretend that his master did not know. He tried to pretend that he himself did not know. But, it was always there reminding him.

Glancing up as they topped a steep incline, he saw a sharp drop-off that led into a wide, bone-dry streambed. Rocks of various sizes lay scattered about the descent. It looked challenging - but not too difficult to traverse.

Qui-Gon stepped down the drop-off, choosing his steps carefully, then turned to make sure Obi-Wan would make it safely. The padawan made the descent gracefully, until a rock came loose from the soil and caused him to slip, landing on his backside.

Without thinking, Qui-Gon reached down and pulled the padawan to his feet - only for Obi-Wan to answer by violently yanking his arm from Qui-Gon's grip, turning his back toward his master.

Obi-Wan's sullen and angry mood hovered as an aura around him. Qui-Gon had brought him out here to annoy him, he reasoned. To get back at him, someway... perhaps for not being the virtuous, untouched padawan that he once was. He had long ago disposed of the idea that Qui-Gon was in any pain over Dajer - since the man was not dead and his evil son now lived behind prison walls.

Since then, the young Jedi had passed from disheartening guilt to woeful unacceptance of his victimized state. Better to deny things unpleasant than to live in their agonizing, sobering light - or so the padawan assured himself.

He feared that he had been permanently tainted by that one, brief encounter with Tarren, and nothing could ever - no matter how cleansing - restore to him his pure, undefiled innocence. It was a past not reclaimable. And what would Qui-Gon do with a sullied padawan?

Staring at the dry, dirt-clod ground, Obi-Wan noticed the rock that had caused him to fall lay with its underbelly side that previously lay sunken into the dirt now exposed. Now free from the soil, its innate beauty glimmered startlingly from the overhead sun's light - kissed unashamedly by the blazing light - revealing a brilliant crimson-flecked olive stone.

Dropping to one knee to look closer, Obi-Wan forgot all about his resentment toward Qui-Gon and focused on the palm-sized, resplendent treasure now before him. He picked the stone up, turning it in his palm, feeling its smooth texture, warm from the sun's baking rays.

Seeing Obi-Wan's interest in the stone, Qui-Gon said, "let's see if we can find a stream nearby. You can wash it in the water and remove all the dirt. Alright, Obi-Wan?"

The padawan nodded slightly as he stood, grasping the small stone, waiting for Qui-Gon to forge ahead on their trek.

They travelled further on along the trail for a few hours before stopping to rest. The sun now hovered at the edge of the tree-splattered mountain range to the west, peeking through the canopy of the tall, noble trees - shooting soft, ethereal rays of radiant light upon the splendored sanctuary of undergrowth where the two Jedi sat on a fallen tree trunk, quietly regaining their strength for the rest of the journey.

As the quietness of the forest lingered, Qui-Gon identified a low, steady flowing sound. "Do you hear it?" he whispered.

Obi-Wan paused to listen intently. After a momentary silence, he said, "water?"

"Yes," Qui-Gon answered, standing.

Taking off in the direction of the sound, they carried on at a quick pace until they emerged from the timberlands, coming to a halt at a wide, rushing stream. The tree cover picked up just to the other side of the stream, making the watercourse a hidden feature - meandering gently, passively through the forest. Its pure, running water splashed and swashed frantically over rocks and boulders rushing onward.

Kneeling at the stream's edge, Obi-Wan dipped the stone in the babbling water, rubbing its surface with his thumb to clear away all the grime. When he was satisfied with the stone's washing, he turned the stone over and over in his hands, marvelling at its exposed beauty. The fiery crimson flecks shimmered like a fireworks display, mesmerizing him.

"It's beautiful. Isn't it, Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon said, noticing the padawan lost in the stone's brilliant demonstration. It was beautiful. Layered beneath the dirt was a wondrous stone - perfect in its natural existence - once dirtied by grime, now redeemed by the cleansing waters of the stream.

"Yes," Obi-Wan quietly answered.

"The stone was beautiful before," Qui-Gon said. "Only we couldn't see it until the dirt was removed. But that made it no less beautiful... even with the dirt covering it."

Nodding, Obi-Wan stood, waiting for Qui-Gon to decide what to do next. It pained Qui-Gon to see his padawan this way - withdrawn, passive, lacking the usual cocky confidence he displayed before the evil Tarren took it from him.

Turning away from the rushing stream, Qui-Gon set a slow pace in the direction they came from - Obi-Wan walking behind him. When the Jedi master noticed that his padawan seemed content to follow him, he quickened his pace.

They arrived back at the cabin just as night swept in. Qui-Gon busied himself with preparing dinner from the supplies they had brought with them. He glanced periodically at Obi-Wan sitting at the table, turning the stone over in his hands, gazing at it.

At least Obi-Wan found something that interested him. Lately, he had withdrawn so much that he seemed to take no interest in anything. That had worried Qui-Gon very much. Perhaps it was a good idea to bring the padawan here, to get away from everything else.

* * *

_"Don't move. I'll slit your throat if you move again," Tarren breathed._

_The man's large hand slid slowly down the padawan's throat and down his bared chest to his abdomen, pausing, caressing._

_"Stop," the padawan begged, unsure of what else to do._

_"Why should I do that?" the man's voice whispered in his ear._

_"Please," he begged again, hoping._

_"Just relax. You'll never get anything like this at your Temple," the man chuckled softly, sadistically. "Besides, we haven't gotten to the best part yet. You'll never be the same."_

Crying out, Obi-Wan sat up abruptly, finding himself safe in the cabin on Lorminth. He knew he would never be the same. He hadn't been since. What followed with Tarren had only gotten worse - slowly degrading until the padawan's thoughts became clear enough - and desperate enough - that he was able to pull the knife away from his throat and send it far across the speeder garage floor. Although Tarren did not finish what he started, Obi-Wan had experienced more than enough to ever let him forget.

Sensing a familiar presence, he glanced at the doorway just as Qui-Gon walked through. Quickly he tightened his mental shields to keep his master out. Since they had been here he woke up every night like this, with Qui-Gon always coming to check on him.

"Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon said, concerned, as he stopped beside the padawan's bed.

"I'm fine, Master. Go back to bed," he said, glancing at Qui-Gon, but avoiding his eyes.

"Don't you want to talk?" the Jedi master asked gently.

Shaking his head, Obi-Wan waited until Qui-Gon left the room before settling back down into bed. He laid awake there for hours before succumbing to exhaustion.

* * *

After a few days Obi-Wan had accumulated a large collection of rocks from the dry streambed where he found the first one - all of them just as beautiful, yet distinct in appearance. He kept them lined up on the table where they ate.

Looking over the assortment of eye-catching stones as they sat at the table eating lunch, Qui-Gon asked, "which stone is your favorite, padawan?"

The padawan glanced over the beautiful stones, pausing in consideration of each one. Then, he reached beneath his robe and pulled out the little birthday stone the Jedi master had given to him shortly after their master/padawan pairing.

"This one, Master," he said softly, clutching the stone possessively, like it was the most precious treasure, before placing it back in its resting place in the padawan's pocket.

It was apparent that the birthday stone was no where near the beauty if the other rocks. But the small stone meant more to Obi-Wan than any of the others, because it was from Qui-Gon. So, it was more precious by default.

"Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon cleared his throat, attempting to bring up the subject he had been avoiding for far too long. He had hoped that the change in atmosphere would make Obi-Wan open up to him, but that had - so far - not happened. "We need to talk about Nim Tarren," he said cautiously. The Jedi master watched the padawan pause in his eating, putting his fork down slowly. After spending seven days here - with no change in Obi-Wan - Qui-Gon decided that a change in strategy was needed.

"Master, I-" Obi-Wan started, never meeting the Jedi master's eyes.

"Obi-Wan, we can't avoid this discussion forever." The words were gentle, compassionate. "This is important, and we need to discuss it."

"No, Master-"

"Yes, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon interrupted. "You have not talked about what happened, and it's been long enough."

"Master, I don't want to," Obi-Wan's voice rose slightly.

"Obi-Wan, you have to move beyond this sometime. And I can't see that you moved from it at all," Qui-Gon's voice came with a forceful edge.

With that, Obi-Wan stood abruptly, his bleary turquoise eyes staring defiantly at his master's determined gaze. The young Jedi opened his mouth, searching for words to say. When none came, the defiance in his eyes faltered, and he dashed out of the cabin.

Running full-blast until he reached the dry streambed, he stopped, glancing over the scattered stones. He could almost always find one with concealed beauty if he looked long enough. The bed was wide and long, and was littered with stones of all sizes, and the overhead sun gave the perfect amount of light for a search.

Kneeling down, the padawan turned over several rocks, seeing what they looked like without all the dust and dirt accumulation that usually collected on top. Just as he found one that appeared to be a gleaming gold, a long shadow fell over him, blocking the sunrays from setting the stone afire.

"Obi-Wan," the steady voice of Qui-Gon said.

The padawan ignored him and stared at the rock, moving it out of the shadow and into the glaring sunlight.

"Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said again, moving closer. He stopped beside the padawan, reaching to grab his arm. But just as he touched it, the young man pulled away, leaping to his feet. Quickly, the Jedi master grabbed the padawan's arm before he could flee and pulled Obi-Wan's back against him, wrapping his arms around the padawan's lithe form in a tight hug to insure no escape.

"Let me go," Obi-Wan called, struggling to free himself from the tall master's hold.

Tightening his arms around Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon tried to still the young Jedi's endeavor to escape. "Obi-Wan, this has gone on long enough," he said gruffly.

"No," the padawan cried.

"Obi-Wan, you need to talk about it. That's the only way you can be healed from it," Qui-Gon continued. "Now, we're going to talk about what happened with Nim Tarren. He tried to rape you, didn't he?"

"No, Master. Let me go," Obi-Wan gasped.

"Yes, he did," Qui-Gon said matter-of-factly as the padawan continued in his futile struggle against the larger man. "And we're going to talk about it."

"No, please," Obi-Wan's voice trembled. He dropped the small, golden stone he had found. Landing with a dull thud, it stirred up a tiny cloud of dust around their feet.

"Did he use some kind of weapon on you? Something to put you to a disadvantage?" Qui-Gon waited in vain for an answer as Obi-Wan continued struggling to free himself. "Then, he tried to rape you," he added knowingly, waiting for a reaction.

"No," Obi-Wan shouted, his tone clearly indicating a tapped sensitive emotion.

Hearing the padawan's breaths becoming more labored, he went on. "He tried to rape you," Qui-Gon stated plainly.

This time the padawan gave no answer, but only continued his frantic struggle to escape from Qui-Gon's death grip.

"He tried to rape you, Obi-Wan," he calmly said. "And he ripped your tunic doing it."

Obi-Wan gasped for breath that he couldn't seem to catch. How could Qui-Gon know about the ripped tunic, the padawan wondered, panicking. Frightening images flashed mercilessly before his eyes. He tightly closed his eyes, willing them to go away.

"He tried to rape you," Qui-Gon repeated. "Didn't he?"

Overwhelmed by the swelling emotions - fear, terror, helplessness - fanned by Qui-Gon's persistent questions, and shocked by the terror of the nightmare played out in his mind again, the padawan could hold it all in no further. The rigid walls of his mental shields - made brittle from the recent strain - collapsed, pouring out everything - every carefully guarded secret - as a violent deluge. Stopping his struggles, Obi-Wan could not keep back the tears now welled up in his eyes from the untamed release of raw emotions.

Qui-Gon reeled from the sudden, overwhelming onslaught of emotional pain and disturbing images that he felt through their bond. The shame, humiliation, and fear that had all fought to remain imbedded there in his padawan's psyche, came gushing out, unable to maintain a foothold any longer.

Feeling the padawan go limp, the Jedi master sank to the ground, still holding Obi-Wan against him. "Didn't he try to rape you, Obi-Wan?" he repeated more firmly.

"Yes, Master," the young man whispered, his breathing coming slower, more controlled. He relaxed in his master's arms, sinking back against the larger man. A stream of tears trailed down the padawan's face.

Realizing belatedly that everything in his mind about the assault had already escaped his shields and lay naked before his master, the padawan felt a sudden rise in embarrassment and shame flush his face.

Qui-Gon gentled his hold on Obi-Wan, allowing the padawan a sense of comfort. "It's nothing to be embarrassed about, Obi-Wan," he whispered in his padawan's ear, continuing as his padawan wept in his arms. Now, with Obi-Wan's shields destroyed by the violent outpouring, the Jedi master could easily sense the padawan's thoughts and feelings. "There's no shame in what happened to you... And, I have never loved you more that I do now, my son." He paused, wondering what else to say to - hopefully - start Obi-Wan on a path to healing.

Obi-Wan was now sobbing uncontrollably. Qui-Gon carefully repositioned himself and gently pulled his padawan to sit sideways in his lap. Then he pulled him closer, cradling him against his broad chest. They sat there while Qui-Gon rocked him.

Obi-Wan's sobbing abated after awhile, continuing to gradually lessen until he was quiet.

"We need to talk about what happened, Padawan," Qui-Gon urged, after several moments of silence.

"I'm not sure if I can, Master," came the hushed reply, slightly embarrassed.

The padawan felt so confused, with the raging feelings clouding his thinking. He really did not want to talk about it, but he felt that Qui-Gon was probably right in that respect.

Qui-Gon rocked him gently, patiently, while Obi-Wan sorted through his thoughts. They sat there in silence for what seemed like along time. The Jedi master was beginning to wonder if Obi-Wan was going to say anything at all.

"Master," he said softly, grasping for a fragment of the courage he needed to continue.

"Yes, Obi-Wan?" whispered Qui-Gon.

A brief, uncertain pause.

"What happened, Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon prodded softly.

"You know what happened, Master," whispered the padawan.

"I want you to tell me, Padawan."

"You know he... attacked me," came the padawan's shaky voice. It was so difficult for him to talk about it.

"Yes." Qui-Gon continued rocking him gently. "Did he have a weapon?"

"He... had a... a knife." Obi-Wan's voice caught on the last word. He gasped, trying to keep from losing his composure. "I... didn't- he was too fast," his words coming out in a rush before stopping abruptly.

Qui-Gon closed his eyes, vainly trying to stop the tears threatening to spill from his eyes.

"He touched me and..." Obi-Wan hesitated, tensing slightly. "He tried to... to..." A broken sob escaped as a well of tears spilled down his cheeks. After a moment he continued. "He tried to rape me," he said barely audible.

Fresh tears stained both of their faces.

"I feel so alone, Master. Does anybody even care about me?" Obi-Wan whispered. "I'm so dirty."

"You're not alone, Padawan. I am here. And you're not dirty. Remember the stones, Obi-Wan?" he began. "How they were beautiful even with the dirt covering them? There was still the same beauty in them that was ever there, but we just couldn't see it. All they needed was to be cleansed in the water. Then we could see they were just as beautiful as they ever were. What happened to you was not your own doing. Let the Force cleanse your mind, Padawan, and heal you so we can leave this behind."

Sensing Obi-Wan hesitantly reach for the Force with difficulty, Qui-Gon drew the waves of Living Force power around them, sending them rushing into the young man in his arms.

Obi-Wan trembled as the sudden violent - yet loving - gush filled him, the crest of the whirling waves rising and falling with a mad passion - the raw power touching and filling the padawan's mind and soul with peace. Slowly, the maelstrom subsided, mysteriously buzzing around them, through them.

Gradually, Obi-Wan opened up more and more as they sat there, telling everything in greater detail - talking of his fears about the near-rape, his fears of what his fellow padawans thought, and his fears of Qui-Gon leaving him in favor of a clean image.

They both knew there would be a long way to healing. But at least Obi-Wan had made the first step and was willing to ask for - and accept - help. Although things would never be as they were before, together they had begun the journey, and together they would walk it, and each day would be better than the last.

They sat there as the hours slipped past, talking and mending Obi-Wan's wounded heart, shattered from savage emotional turmoil. They were still there when the blazing red sun slid over the horizon, transforming another day into a quiet moonlit night - ushering in a shining new dawn of healing.

END

* * *


End file.
